Stood Up
by aubreylovesthegames
Summary: Clary's boyfriend, Sebastian, unexpectedly stands her up after he was given an ultimatum: Either they try to work things out, or their relationship is over. Humiliated and heartbroken, she goes to leave, but then the most handsome man she's ever seen stops her. Is it possible that the night won't turn out to be as bad as it started?
1. Chapter 1

**So I was scrolling through Pinterest and saw some writing prompts, and I'm home sick with the inability to speak, so I thought why not? This will be a two-shot; the second part will be out shortly after this! Also, this is my first fanfic for the TMI fandom, so I hope you enjoy it!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments.**

 **Clary**

"I have to go, Simon," Clary said as she stood and grabbed her coat from the back of the couch. "Besides, it's date night."

"But didn't you guys have another fight?" Simon asked in confusion, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

Clary sighed, shrugging on her coat and flipping her fiery hair out of the collar. She took her time putting on her shoes and checking her phone, even though she knew there would be no messages. There hadn't been any for the past three days.

"We had an argument, yes," she mumbled.

"And you're still going on a date? I didn't think you spoke to each other for at least a week after one of your blowouts," he said, his eyebrows crinkling.

"One of our blowouts?" Clary repeated, sporting an amused grin. "What, you have it labeled now?"

Simon stood and walked over to her, setting a hand on her shoulder. "Clary, I'm serious. Why on earth are you still with him?"

Her smile faded. "I don't remember this being the topic of conversation," she said, suddenly annoyed.

"Well, now it is. Why are you still with that scumbag, Clare?" he asked sharply.

She scowled at him. This wasn't the first time they had had this conversation. "Sebastian is my boyfriend, Simon. He has been for two and a half _years_. I think I owe it to him to try and work things out, and going to date night is a necessary gesture if I want to do so."

"Clary, he has cheated on you! Not once, not even twice, but multiple times! And those are only the times we know about!" he added exasperatedly. "You should have broken up with him a long time ago, but you continue to forgive and forget and go crawling back to him like some sad soap opera! And how do you know that he won't stand you up again? How do you know he won't be out on a date with some other girl tonight instead of you?"

Ignoring the sinking realization that her best friend was right, Clary sucked in a breath. "So what? It's not like you haven't cheated on Isabelle before! You cheated and she forgave you and now you love each other more than ever!"

Simon's eyes widened, and he pointed a shaking finger at her. "That was different," he said, his voice wavering. "You know it was."

"And how was it different? Was it the fact that you had just had a fight? Was it the fact that you were drunk and couldn't control your actions? Was it-"

"We had broken up that night, Clary!" Simon exclaimed, his chest heaving. Then he stiffened in surprise, stumbling backward and collapsing back onto the couch. Suddenly feeling extremely guilty, Clary slowly approached him and sat next to him, temporarily forgetting about the time as she took in his shaky hands.

"Why did you never tell me this, Si?" she whispered.

"I wasn't proud of it, and neither was Izzy, so we both decided to keep that to ourselves and forgive each other for everything that transpired that night," he answered monotonously.

"Oh, Simon," she murmured and laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Simon took in a deep breath, slowly releasing it to calm himself down. He unclasped his hands and slid an arm around Clary, squeezing her shoulders. The simple gesture caused tears to form in her eyes, and then she was crying. Simon snapped into action, quickly wrapping both arms around her and bringing her comfortingly into his chest.

"I just want what you have," she said miserably. "And we had that once, Sebastian and I. I guess I'm just so caught up in what we were that I don't want to see what we are now and to acknowledge that means that I just wasted two and a half years of my life on someone who I never should've spent time with at all."

"Hey," Simon murmured, pushing her back and looking her dead in the eye. "You're only 22, Clary. You'll find it someday. I know you will. And maybe Sebastian really is the one for you and you two just need to have a long sit down to work things out. But you can't let him keep treating you like this, Clare-bear. You deserve better."

Clary took a deep breath and wiped away the remainder of her tears. She tried her best to shoot Simon a smile. "Thank you, Simon. You always know what to say."

He smiled back at her, helping her up and walking her to the door. "Promise me something, Clary."

"Yes?" she asked as she exited into the hallway.

Simon quickly grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "If he stands you up, leave him. It's time you gave him an ultimatum."

Her chest constricted, but she did her best to hide it as she nodded and ran off, leaving the concerned pair of chocolate brown eyes behind her.

* * *

 _Ring, ring, ring._

"Hey, it's Sebastian. Leave a message and I'll call you back."

Clary took a deep breath, closing her eyes. "Sebastian, it's me. Look, I know that we just had a fight and everything, but I'm willing to talk it out with you. I'm willing to talk _everything_ out. The truth is, we can't keep doing this anymore. _I_ can't do this anymore. We go around in circles, never stopping to look back; it's a broken loop that somehow always seems to hurt me more than it hurts you." She sighed. "I'm going to our place tonight, same time as always. If you show up, we can try to start over, have clean slates. If you don't show up...well, then I guess that's...that. But, um, yeah. I should go. Goodbye, Sebastian."

She hung up the phone with shaking fingers as she left her apartment. Her hair was freshly washed, her nails were freshly painted, and she had only had just enough time to slip her black dress on before she had had to rush out the door. This left her face bare of any and all makeup—she hadn't even had the time to put on mascara. And as she stood on the curb, trying and failing to hail a cab, she realized that she also forgot her coat.

She hopped from foot to foot in an attempt to keep the cold away. Luckily Isabelle hadn't been around to dress her up this time, so she was able to move a lot more freely from the lack of high heels. But there was still the fact that she was wearing a knee-length dress with only lace for the sleeves, which did little to nothing to keep the winter air from biting at her skin.

A single taxi finally noticed her short figure dancing around on the side of the road and pulled up beside her. "Taki's Diner, please," Clary said to the driver once she was inside the yellow cab.

"Got it," the man replied, diving back into the heavy New York City traffic. Clary grimaced. She might be a little late. "Now, why is a pretty thing like you going somewhere all alone on a Saturday night?" the man asked, unusually talkative for a cabbie.

Clary shifted in her seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "I'm meeting up with my boyfriend," she said, being sure to emphasize the 'boyfriend' part of the sentence.

The driver laughed amusedly. "Don't worry, kid. I got a wife and two kids back at home."

She instantly relaxed and smiled shyly at the man. "Sorry. I've had some bad experiences with taxis."

"Well, I can't blame you for being careful. My wife has had her fair share of experiences as well. I take it you've lived here for awhile?"

"Born and raised," she grinned. "What about you?"

"Nah, I moved from Pennsylvania not too long ago. My lovely wife got a great job offer here, I quit mine so we could move, and now here I am," he said with a smile, checking the rearview mirror as he switched lanes.

"What's she like? Your wife, I mean," Clary found herself asking.

"Ah," said the man, and his face lit up. "Julia. She's stunning. Beautiful on the inside and the out. She's smart, and kind, and compassionate, and loves better than anyone I've ever known."

Clary smiled sadly and turned her gaze to look out the window. She wondered if Sebastian spoke of her like that, that was if he had ever spoken of her. And in that case, she wondered what he thought of her, if he thought as highly of her as the man in front of her thought of his wife. Deep down she knew the answer, but it was nothing she wanted to admit to herself.

"Neat place," the man said as he pulled up to her destination. "That'll be ten dollars even."

Reaching into her wallet, she pulled out a twenty, handing it quickly over. "Don't worry about the change. Thank you."

"No problem, kid. Have a good night with your boyfriend."

She smiled at him one more time before she stepped out into the December night, hurrying her way inside the building. As she walked in she automatically scanned for white hair, feeling disappointed when she didn't see any. She inspected the crowded room of red and black booths again carefully, and her heart sank even further when she came up with the same results.

"Excuse me, is there a Sebastian Morgenstern here?" Clary found herself asking the hostess.

The girl frowned as she reviewed the reservation list. "I'm sorry, but there doesn't seem to be anyone by that name here. But, if you'd like, we have an extra booth open tonight due to a cancellation. If you'll follow me, I can go ahead and lead you to it," she offered.

Clary's smile faltered slightly. She thanked the girl anyways and followed her to a black booth in the center of the room. A few gazes flicked over to see the newcomer before going back to their conversations. She slid into one side of the booth—the side that hopefully fewer people could see. If Sebastian didn't come…

No. She wouldn't think like that. She had to believe he was coming.

"Can I get you something to drink while your waitress finishes up with another table?" the hostess asked.

"Two glasses of water, please," Clary said with a convincing smile.

"Will there be another joining you tonight?" the girl asked for clarification.

"Yes, my boyfriend should be here any minute," Clary confirmed, hoping that she didn't just make a humiliating decision.

"Then I'll be sure to have both of your drinks brought out in a jiffy," she said, smiling and turning back to the direction of the kitchen, assumingly to do what she said she would.

Clary fiddled with her fingers as she waited for the drinks, watching the door and windows for any sign of white. It was a peculiar hair color for someone only 24 years of age; she wouldn't be able to miss it if she tried.

"Hi, there!"

Clary jumped and trained her eyes to look at the source of the noise. She blushed when she saw that it was just the waitress placing the waters onto opposite sides of the table. The girl smiled as she handed Clary one of two menus, the other going to rest beside the unclaimed water glass.

"My name is Kaelie, and I will be your waitress for tonight! Here are your waters and your menus, and I'll be back in a few minutes to check on you!" the girl enthusiastically said.

"Thank you," Clary said politely.

She looked at her menu for a few minutes, taking her time to read through each and every option. Every once in awhile she looked back to the front doors where more and more people gathered, eager to find shelter from the cold air. She saw a head of white and straightened up, hope blossoming across her face, only to see a moment later that the white hair was that of an old man's.

"Are you ready to order yet, or do you need a few more minutes?" Kaelie said once she'd returned as promised.

Clary turned to the girl and forced a smile on her face. "Could you give me a few more minutes? I'm sure he'll be here soon. He must have been asked to stay a couple extra minutes at work tonight."

Kaelie's eyes flicked over to the empty side of the booth, and she nodded understandingly. "Of course! I'll be back again soon!"

It was only when she walked away that Clary remembered today was Saturday, and no one in their right mind would be working the Saturday before Christmas, especially at seven o'clock at night. She slumped back into her seat. At least her waitress had been kind enough not to say anything about it.

She looked at the menu items again, reading them extra slowly as if pondering what she wanted to eat, even though she'd already ordered at least a dozen times in her head.

 _I'll have the Portobello mushroom chicken with a side of mashed potatoes and green beans, please._

As more time passed and more people filtered in and out of the restaurant, Clary's heart came closer to ripping in half. It was now twenty minutes past their meeting time, and she hadn't received a single text from Sebastian saying that he was on his way, that traffic got held up but not to worry because he was okay and he would be there soon.

"Hey, miss?" Kaelie said from the side of the booth. "Do you want to order yet, or do you need more time?"

Clary forced her lip not to wobble as she smiled and politely requested just a _few_ more minutes. "Saturday night traffic can get pretty crazy, you know?"

Kaelie bowed her head and walked away again, leaving Clary alone for the third time. Several pairs of eyes trained themselves onto the small redhead as Kaelie left, and when Clary looked she was bombarded with unwanted looks of sympathy. Most people turned away, embarrassed to be caught staring, but some, like the woman she was making eye contact with now, gave her a sad smile as if she knew what had happened.

Now aware that it was completely illogical for her to pretend she was still reading the menu—she swore she could recite the entire selection by heart now—she set it down and folded her arms on the table, looking down. She bit her lip and felt a sharp sting as the cut reopened, blood trickling down into her mouth.

She had chewed on this particular spot enough in the past two years to know that it hadn't ever completely healed. During every stand-up, every cheat, and every lie, that lip had been chewed on and mercilessly left to bleed.

She wasn't sure what she had been expecting; maybe she hadn't been expecting anything at all, and that was why it hurt so much. Because she knew that he wouldn't show up, but she had hoped that he would anyways. For her. For them.

She could see it clear as day—Sebastian, dressed in a nice pair of jeans and button-up shirt, running through the front doors of the restaurant and scurrying his way over to Clary, kissing her quickly before sitting down on his side of the booth and apologizing for making her wait so long. She imagined telling him that it was okay, that she knew he would show up soon and that she held her order until he was there. She imagined the exchange of 'I love you's at the end of their date, the warm lips that would kiss her goodnight, the embrace that made her feel so loved.

But there were too many problems.

For one, Sebastian wasn't coming; that much was obvious.

But even if he did come, if he did decide that Clary was the better bargain tonight, she would be able to sense the faint smell of cheap perfume on the collar of his nice button-up, meaningless to him yet heartbreaking to her.

Then she would tell him it was okay when he apologized for making her wait while wanting to burst into tears because no, it wasn't okay, she didn't think he would show up at all, and now that he did she wanted him to leave.

She would say those three words again come the end of the night, and he would say them back, but they would be empty—without promise.

And the lips that used to warm her were now cold to the touch, and the arms that had once made her feel accepted and loved now made her feel unwanted and never good enough.

Her eyes filled with tears. He had made it loud and clear. Sebastian stood her up.

As the first tear fell, Clary grabbed her handbag from the table and dug around for her phone, fully prepared to call Simon and have him pick her up in his hideous-looking van. She'd already been humiliated enough that she really didn't mind if she were to be seen crawling into a badly painted, rusted chunk of metal.

But then something strange happened: a hand dropped onto her shoulder and a pair of lips swooped down to peck her cheek. The warm buzz she felt from the lips forced her to rethink who could be there; Sebastian wasn't one to show affection, even in small gestures like that. In fact, it was the smallest gestures that he had the most trouble with. Startled, she looked up just in time to see the most beautiful man she'd ever laid eyes on flash her a charming smile.

"I'm sorry I'm so late, babe. I would have called you but my phone died before I had the chance. Who would have thought traffic would be so backed up tonight?"

Not knowing what to say, Clary sat in silence blinking up at the man. He was still smiling, looking at her as if he had known her for years. She knew for a fact that she hadn't seen this person in her entire life—she definitely would have remembered him if she had, if not because of her natural appreciation for stunningly good looks then because of her artist's eye for beautiful things.

 _Is this some kind of joke?_

Before she had the chance to say anything, he leaned forward to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and said just loud enough for her to hear, "My name is Jace. Just go with it. Also, whoever didn't bother to show up is an asshole."

Jace leaned away, wiping the lone tear from her face and sliding into the empty seat across from her all in one swift motion. Still shocked, she stared blankly at the man in front of her. He was dressed in jeans and a simple black tee, his hair windblown as if he'd been running.

Her brain was working overtime trying to process what had just happened. Eventually, she put the pieces together and realized that he must have been one of the ones watching for the past thirty minutes knowing she'd been stood up, and instead of leaving her to be humiliated and heartbroken, he took the role of the standee. And she couldn't have been more grateful.

Silently, she put her handbag back down and looked at the man in front of her—Jace—currently pretending to read the menu. He practically screamed gold: golden hair, golden skin, golden eyes (she had had no idea that that particular eye color was even possible until now). As she looked closer, she saw different shades of blond on his head—amber, platinum, honey—which, when combined, created the gold effect. But other than amazingly good genetics, there wasn't an explanation for the rest of him. He looked absolutely perfect. Flawless.

He couldn't be much older than her, she decided. Probably the same age as Sebastian, if not a little younger.

Jace looked up from the menu. He smirked as if knowing that her stare wasn't just from shock anymore. The look turned her legs into jello and her insides into a warm pool of butterflies. Unfortunately for her, the warmth spread up to her cheeks, turning them a light shade of pink. Embarrassed, she quickly looked down just like the others had done when they'd been caught staring at Clary.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

"I see we finally have our party of two gathered! Are you ready to order now?" Kaelie asked, reappearing at the booth with a large smile on her face. Clary smiled, no longer having to force the corners of her mouth to turn up, and greeted the waitress with a nod.

"I'll have the Portobello mushroom chicken with a side of mashed potatoes and green beans, please," she said quietly.

To get that single sentence out of her mouth seemed monumental to Clary. There had been too many times where her dates with Sebastian hadn't gotten that far, and, if they somehow had, he'd always butted in and ordered her a salad, assuming that was what she would get.

If he would have paid attention, he would have noticed the crinkling of her nose and the distasteful downturn of her mouth at the mention of the leafy greens. But he didn't.

He never did.

She hadn't even known the stranger across from her for more than five minutes, yet this date was already going better than any of the ones she'd had with Sebastian, and she'd dated him for two and a half years. Granted, the first six months had been good, but the dates had always fallen a little flat for her, like he was trying too hard to win her over. That should have been the first sign, Clary knew, to get out of there. She had taken his actions for nerves at the time, but looking back on it now, she saw that he was setting her up to be walked all over on.

"I'll have the same thing," Jace ordered with an award-winning smile.

"Got it!" Kaelie exclaimed. "I'll put those right in for you! Do you need anything else?"

Jace looked to Clary who shook her head. She wasn't sure why she was letting him do all the talking, but as she listened to his angelic voice politely dismiss Kaelie, she had her answer.

"So," Jace said, leaning forward and taking a drink of water, "now that the attention is off of us, I think we should get to know each other a little better, don't you?" Taken aback by his goodwill, it was all Clary could do to nod. "What's your name?"

"Clary," she answered.

"Ah, so she _does_ speak," Jace replied with another smirk. Clary fought a smile by sipping her own water. "Pretty name. Like the herb, clary sage," he said absentmindedly.

"Actually, it's more like Clarissa, but I don't think anyone but my mother calls me that, and even then it's only when I'm in trouble," she easily said.

"You're not the only one who goes by a nickname," he offered. "My extended name is Jonathan, but no one but my father ever called me that."

Clary didn't miss the use of past tense, but she figured that she wasn't really in the position to be asking about that yet. Her eyebrows crinkled as she tried to calculate something in her head. "How did you get Jace from Jonathan?" she asked, finally giving up on figuring it out herself.

"It comes from my first and middle initials—Jonathan Christopher, J.C., Jace." He shrugged. "I've been going solely by Jace for thirteen years now, so I don't see a reason to go by anything else."

"I like it," Clary said shyly. "Besides, you don't really look like a Jonathan to me."

Jace raised an eyebrow. Clary scowled at the action—she'd always wanted to be able to do that—but Jace seemed oblivious to her displeasure.

"And what, may I ask, makes me look un-Jonathanish?"

"Un-Jonathanish?" Clary repeated, a small giggle replacing her scowl. "I'm pretty sure you just made that up."

"I did not make it up," Jace scoffed, leaning back in his seat. "It's a certified word, I tell you."

"Right," Clary drawled. "To answer your question honestly, I'm not the best person to ask. I have a brother named Jonathan, so I'm probably biased."

Jace leaned forward again, his eyes sparkling with interest. "You have a brother?"

Clary nodded, suddenly feeling shy again. She nervously tucked a piece of hair behind her ear while she spoke. "Only one. He's four years older than me."

"Are you close?" Jace asked.

Clary pondered the question for a moment. "We are now," she finally said.

"Now? What was before now?" Jace asked.

Clary sighed. He was an awfully nosy person when he wanted to be, wasn't he? "I was always closer with my mom, him with dad, and when they got a divorce due to some...complications," she carefully said, not wanting to reveal too much information, "it took a toll on our relationship. Later, when everything was explained to him, Jon took mother's side and apologized for not having done it sooner. We were able to build our relationship back up, and we've been close ever since."

Jace nodded understandingly. "I take it your father is no longer in the picture, then?"

Clary shook her head. "No, not really. I haven't spoken to him in years. I mean, he calls Jonathan on the holidays and on his birthday, but that's it. He doesn't bother to contact me. He resents me, I think, for not having taken his side."

"But what about Jonathan? If he resented you for not taking his side, then he wouldn't have kept in contact with Jonathan because of the same thing, right?" he prodded.

Clary pursed her lips. "He assumes Jon only lived with Mother because that's where I was."

Jace frowned. "Do you regret it? Not taking his side, I mean."

"Absolutely not," she said without hesitation. "Maybe I would feel the slightest bit guilty had he attempted to make an effort with his only daughter, but he didn't. Besides, he's never been there for me. I found more of a father figure in my mother's best friend, who I should mention is now my step-dad."

"Any other family? Step-siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins?"

"No. It's always just been my mother, Jon, and I. Even Luke, my step-dad, doesn't have any extended family. At least, none that he's mentioned."

Jace frowned. "Doesn't that get lonely?"

"Not really," Clary said. "I have everything I need, and I also have the best friends a girl could ask for. Plus, I'm a natural introvert, so it doesn't bother me to be alone most of the time."

"An introvert, huh?" Jace inquired, studying her.

Clary fiddled with the hem of her dress, suddenly aware of a loose thread. "Well, not all of us can be raging extroverts like yourself."

Jace chuckled. "No, I suppose not."

Having had enough questions thrown at her, Clary decided to turn them on him. "What about you? Family? Friends?"

"Well," Jace began, "I'm adopted. My family took me in when I was ten years old. I stand out like a sore thumb in their bunch, but they've never cared, or even seemed to notice, really. I credit them with the incredible honor of raising me."

"What happened to your first family? Your blood?" Clary quietly asked, aware that the answer may not be something he was willing to give her.

After a long moment of silence, Jace said, "They were killed in a car accident. I was ten when it happened, and neither of my parents had extended relatives, much like yours, so I was sent to live with the wonderful people I call family today."

Clary winced. "I'm sorry for asking. I didn't know."

"If I didn't want to answer, I wouldn't have," Jace answered simply, taking another drink of water.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Clary murmured, eyeing his change in posture.

Jace smiled and tilted his head slightly to the right. "If you feel so bad about it, why don't we make it even?"

"Even...how?" Clary questioned warily.

Jace thought for only a moment. "Why did your parents divorce?"

Clary pursed her lips and looked down, drumming her fingers against the tabletop. It wasn't that the question had overstepped any more boundaries than the one she had asked him had, but saying it aloud would bring back the memories, and she wasn't sure she was ready for that.

"Hey," Jace's voice, suddenly soft, sounded. A large, calloused hand rested over her rapidly tapping fingers. She snapped her head up. "You don't have to answer that," he assured her.

Somehow, looking into his understanding tawny eyes and feeling his hand on hers gave her the motivation to say the words. "My dad...he hit my mom, sometimes. She never told anyone. One day I walked into the kitchen to see him taking a swing at her, and when I confronted him about it he turned on me. He never hit me, but he got really angry. That was the last straw for Mom, and she went to the courthouse the very next day to start the process."

She saw Jace tense then relax from where he sat, staring intently at her as if seeing her in a new light. She supposed he could be; sometimes hearing about the ghosts of one's past made them look different, as if there were features that had been missed the first time someone had looked at them.

Her cheeks flared up as the time dragged on, Jace's piercing gold eyes still staring with intensity. Clary self-consciously reached up to touch her hair—a nervous habit that had been impossible for her to break. She was saved from the need to awkwardly start up the conversation again by Kaelie's return, who was greeting them both with the same cheery smile as always and placing their food in front of them.

"Thank you," both Jace and Clary said to Kaelie. She nodded, giving them one last smile before going to check on another table.

The food was heavenly. It was even better than Clary remembered it being the first time she had it, probably due to the fact that Jace wasn't looking at her judgmentally like Sebastian had, staring as if he couldn't believe she'd eat anything even slightly filling in front of him.

"So, Clary," Jace said between bites, "what do you do?"

Swallowing quickly and washing it down with a swig of water, Clary looked up from her plate to meet his friendly gaze.

"I'm an artist," she said quietly, expecting the questions to end at that. Surprisingly, however, her answer seemed to peak his interest.

"Really?" Jace asked. "What type of art? Painting? Drawing?"

"It depends on the job," Clary said. Then, deciding to elaborate further, she sheepishly admitted, "I'm freelance."

"Impressive," Jace said, and he sounded as if he actually meant it. Clary flushed. "Well, what's your favorite style?"

"Drawing," Clary answered automatically. "Mostly graphite, but I don't mind color. My mother paints far better than I ever could, but I suppose that I'm not too far behind her."

"Your mother is an artist?" Jace asked, cutting off another piece of chicken.

"In her spare time. She could have made it as a freelance, but she'd always wanted to teach the younger generation, so she's now an art teacher at a nearby high school." Clary shrugged. "She's happy."

"That's all that really matters in the end," Jace said with a small smile.

"It is," Clary agreed, smiling back at him. "So, what do you do?"

Jace made a tutting noise. "I wasn't done asking you questions yet, Clarissa."

She rolled her eyes at the mock scolding but couldn't help but be silently pleased with his interest. "What else would you like to ask me?"

Jace looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. "What has been your favorite project so far?"

A large smile broke out on Clary's face, and she set down her fork and knife as she began to speak, passion lacing her tone. Noticing this, Jace's eyes twinkled and he put down his own silverware, completely entranced.

"I was called to a children's hospital a few months back to complete a mural in the playroom. They told me that my only guidelines were to make it colorful and creative, so I asked the kids what they wanted to see and incorporated a little bit of each response into it. A lot of the girls wanted to see flowers, rainbows, and princesses while the boys wanted things like dragons and castles," Clary said animatedly, pausing to take a drink of water.

"So what'd you do, then?" Jace asked, giving Clary some time to take care of her parched throat without making her feel rushed.

"I made it fantasy based, of course. I made the dragon the centerpiece of it all and painted a tower with a princess being rescued by her prince in the background. The dragon was black, the tower was gray, and the prince and princess were painted with a black and white palette. Different types of flowers lined the frame of it—lilies, roses, daisies—and they were all white," Clary said excitedly and looked to Jace as if for a cue.

Jace chuckled. "All right, what else did you do?"

Lit up like a kid on Christmas morning, Clary broke out into a toothy grin. "I got permission from the staff to use the kids' handprints for the dragon's wings, so I got to talk to each one of them as they dipped their hand in their favorite color and put it up on the wall. That's where the whole colorful part of the guidelines came in."

"You love children, don't you?"

Clary nodded vigorously. "I adore children. My favorite projects are always the ones that directly affect them. It's a bonus for me if I get to interact with them." Then, as if just now registering her impassioned speech, Clary's smile faded and she silently picked her silverware back up, taking another bite of chicken. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to get so carried away."

"Clary, look at me," Jace said, his voice stern. She slowly lifted her head to meet his eyes. He looked irritated, which didn't surprise her, but what did surprise her was, when she looked closer, that the irritation wasn't directed at her like Sebastian's had once been. "Don't you ever apologize for that. I never want to hear you say sorry for talking about something you love."

Kaelie saved Clary from having to reply once again by appearing seemingly out of nowhere. "Could I interest you in any dessert, or are you ready for the check?"

Looking at her empty plate and back down at her lap, Clary tried to avoid Jace's gaze. She'd somehow gotten away with eating more than a salad, and, with someone her size, it was difficult for even her to believe that she'd maybe like some dessert. But she wasn't about to say that out loud, not to mention that she didn't need it.

"Actually," Jace said, "I think we will take some dessert."

"Great! What can I get you?" Kaelie asked, looking at the both of them.

"Whatever she wants," he replied, making Clary look up in surprise. He smirked and nodded to her as if to say, _Go on then._

"Um-well, I...I guess I'll take the coconut pancakes," Clary said quietly to Kaelie, who happily jotted it down before taking off once again, promising that it would be ready before they knew it.

"Where do you work?" Clary asked Jace to restart the conversation, resting her elbows on the table and twirling a red curl around her finger. "You never said."

"I'm mainly a fitness trainer, but I do occasionally work at my adoptive father's office to help him out. It can get crazy up there from time to time," Jace said.

Clary found herself looking him over, searching his chest and arms for evidence that reflected his occupation, and, as he leaned back and interlocked his fingers behind his skull, she wasn't disappointed.

"If you take a picture it'll last longer," Jace said, snapping her out of her reverie. Clary fell back, blushing. "Although, in your case, it'd be much more fitting if you drew one, wouldn't it? If you'd like, I'll sit still for you."

There was no way Clary would ever admit that her fingers really were itching to draw him.

"And here are your coconut pancakes! I'll be back with the check in a few!" Kaelie said as she slid the dessert onto the table.

Clary felt as if she could hug Kaelie. She'd saved her, albeit unknowingly, from awkward responses several times now. She wondered if Kaelie had a knack for that sort of thing or if the world just decided to cut Clary some slack tonight. Maybe a bit of both, considering the slack was the result of the man who looked as if he should be on the cover of People magazine rather than in some random diner in New York—no less with _her_.

Clary grabbed her fork and immediately dug into the powdered sugar covered pancakes. Jace smirked when she took her first bite, sighing in bliss as her taste buds approved. It was only after her sixth bite that she realized Jace wasn't eating.

She swallowed, looking down at the half-eaten pancakes and back up at Jace. "Don't you want some?"

He shook his head, his eyes twinkling in amusement. "Not at all. Besides, it looks like you've got it covered."

She blushed once more before continuing to eat. It only took her two more minutes before the pancakes were gone and her stomach was full. Maybe it helped that she hadn't eaten real food in awhile—she was living mostly off of instant dinners lately due to her busy schedule—but she swore that she had never tasted anything as good as the food had tonight.

Kaelie appeared once again, placing the check on the edge of the table and quickly hurrying off as someone yelled for her assistance in the kitchen. Clary reached for the check but Jace's hand beat her to it, snatching it away from her reach and opening his wallet.

"Jace, no!" she exclaimed in dismay.

"Jace, yes," he said, slipping his credit card into the pocket.

"No!" she argued, shaking her head wildly. "You were never supposed to be here in the first place, and the only reason you are is because you're a nice person and felt bad for me! I will not let you pay for the food!"

Jace raised an eyebrow at her—Clary scowled—and handed the black folder to a passing Kaelie, the latter smiling apologetically as she was ordered elsewhere.

"At least let me pay you back," Clary said exasperatedly. "I have the money."

"I don't care about the money, Clary," Jace said with a chuckle.

"But I do!" she stubbornly said. "I care!"

Jace leaned forward to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. "Just so we're clear," he said in a low voice, "I didn't come over here because I'm nice, or because I felt bad for you. I came over because I thought you were beautiful and didn't deserve to be stood up like that."

"You...you did?" Clary whispered, stunned. She hadn't expected this.

"I did," he said, running a finger softly down her cheek before pulling away and taking back his credit card and receipt from Kaelie. Either he had a really great peripheral vision, an amazing sense of self-awareness, or he also had the whole 'good timing' thing.

"I think," Jace said, sliding out of the booth, "it's about time I walk you home."

"You're walking me home?" Clary couldn't help but repeat.

Jace chuckled. "Well, it would be rude of me if I left you to fend for yourself, now wouldn't it?"

"You don't have to," Clary quickly said, not wanting to be considered an obligation. "I can get a taxi or something. I'll be fine, really."

"Clary," he said, giving her a pointed look that told her it was useless to argue with him any further. The butterflies took off again, making her stomach flutter. "I'm walking you home."

She nodded once, grabbing her handbag and digging through it for some tip money.

"Don't bother," Jace said. "It's already on the table."

She frowned and glanced upward only to spy the face of Alexander Hamilton that she swore hadn't been on the table before. "Jace…" she said disapprovingly.

He grinned and held out his hand out to her. She sighed and took it, allowing him to help her out of the booth and ignoring the sparks she felt while he did so.

"Off we go," he stated cheerfully.


	2. Chapter 2

**Clary**

"Where's your coat?" Jace asked as they took a left, walking at a leisurely pace toward Clary's apartment building despite the cold.

"I kinda, sorta forgot it," she admitted sheepishly.

"You forgot your coat in the middle of December?" Jace said disbelievingly.

"I was in a hurry," she said, trying to defend herself. "I was running short on time. I didn't even have time to do my hair or makeup before I needed to be out the door, and in the rush of things I guess I left my coat behind too. If I would've known I'd be stood up, maybe I wouldn't have forgotten it," she added bitterly, shivering as a sudden gust of wind attempted to freeze her.

Jace sighed, shrugging his coat off and placing it around her shoulders. The coat hung to the same length as her dress, if not a little longer, and the lasting body heat enwrapped her small frame, warming her almost immediately.

"Jace-"

"I'll stop you there. No, Clary, I'm not taking my coat back," he interrupted.

She huffed. "Then how will you stay warm?"

He lazily waved her off before smoothly wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. Smiling down at her surprised face, he said, "I've got you."

His scent completely filled her mind and her senses, yet it wasn't overwhelming in the slightest. There was a small overlying scent of cologne, but then there was the undertone of what she imagined sunshine would smell like. She bet that the undertone was his natural scent.

 _Of course he would smell like sunshine,_ she thought. Why stop at just looks when you could smell golden too?

She relaxed into Jace's touch, finding that she enjoyed it more than she imagined she could ever enjoy someone's touch, especially someone she'd just met.

Reminded of that fact, she opened her mouth to start up conversation again. "You never told me much about your family," Clary said, wrapping herself up tighter in Jace's coat. She was suddenly glad she forgot hers at home.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, tucking the hand that wasn't currently around her into his pocket.

"I don't know," she said flippantly. "The basics. You know—if you have brothers, if you have sisters, what your parents are like, that sort of thing."

"Maryse and Robert are great," Jace said with a smile. "They took me in without hesitation and treated me as one of their own. They never pushed me to talk about the wreck and had their children treat me the same as they treated each other. Needless to say, I fit in without much of a problem."

"So you do have siblings?" Clary asked.

"Three of them," Jace said. "Max, the youngest, was just a toddler when I moved in, so he doesn't really remember a time when I wasn't around. He looks up to me, which is humbling, but I'm not sure why. He's never said."

"How old is he now?"

"He just turned sixteen not that long ago," Jace replied. "Anyways, there's my one year older brother, Alec, who also acts as my closest friend, and Izzy, who is the same age as me."

"Alec and Izzy…" Clary said, frowning. "Those are just nicknames, right?"

"Maxwell, Alexander, and Isabelle. Yes...and I've just now realized that all of us have nicknames," Jace said thoughtfully.

"What's your last name?" Clary inquired, wondering if the world was truly as small as she thought it might be.

"My last name or their last name?" Jace questioned. "Because there's two answers."

"Both," she requested.

"Mine is Herondale. I was my birth parents' only child, and I have no other family to carry on the name, so I decided to keep it."

"Herondale," she repeated with a smile. "Jace Herondale. It has a nice ring to it."

Jace returned her smile with one of his own, and from her angle she could see a small chip in his incisor. Her grin widened. Somehow that small imperfection made him even more perfect than before.

"Good to know," he remarked. "I would hyphenate my name, but Jonathan Christopher Herondale is already a mouthful. I don't really feel like introducing myself as Jonathan Christopher Herondale-Lightwood every time I meet someone."

Clary stopped in her tracks, her lips parting to form an 'o'. Jace frowned, turning his head to look at her.

"What is it?" he asked.

Her lips slowly curved into a smile, and she initiated their walk once again. "Oh, nothing. Just that your sister, my second bestest friend and my best girl friend, just so happens to be dating my first bestest friend," Clary said with a smirk.

"Wait," Jace said, and this time he was the one to stop their trek. Clary's smirk dropped as she realized her mistake. "Izzy is _dating_ someone?"

"Crap," Clary muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Let's forget I said that, okay? I wasn't supposed to tell her family, even though I'd never met them and couldn't tell them if I tried, which is actually ironic because I'm not trying at all—I wasn't ever planning to try—and now I just let that piece of information slip to her brother, which is fantastic."

Isabelle was going to kill her. Right after she finished gushing about her brother and her best friend going on a mock date and vividly describing what their children would look like, of course.

Jace slowly started walking again, taking some time to process the new information. "You said she's dating your best friend?"

Clary winced. "Yes…"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's serious, isn't it? If it weren't serious she would have told us about him when they first started going out."

"I feel like I shouldn't be the one to tell you this, but yes, as far as I know, they're serious," Clary said stiffly.

Jace nodded, pondering his next words. "You're the one Isabelle harasses over the phone when she wants to go shopping, aren't you?"

Clary laughed, glad to have taken a different turn in the conversation. Luckily Jace seemed to take mind of Izzy's personal life, which Clary couldn't have been more ecstatic about. She was afraid she was going to be grilled about what Simon was like and how he treated Izzy. She only prayed that Jace didn't tell Izzy that he knew about her current relationship status and how.

"Guilty as charged."

He chuckled, the low rumble going through his chest and causing Clary to feel its vibrations from where she was still tucked into his side. "The harassment suddenly makes a whole lot more sense."

"And why is that?" Clary asked curiously.

"Well, for one, you aren't wearing a dress that resembles a tube top, and you are also lacking high heels, both things of which are of sacred importance to my dear sister. Not to mention your lack of makeup, which she would have rather died than not have on," Jace said, staring at the space ahead of them as if lost in thought.

"Is that a bad thing?" Clary said quietly, afraid to hear the answer.

"No," he answered softly. "If anything, it makes me like you even more."

She bit her lip to keep her smile from growing too large as her heart swelled like a balloon. She couldn't remember Sebastian ever making her feel this way, even when they were at their best. Where one touch from Jace left her feeling warm and light, the same touch from Sebastian warranted nothing. She'd never believed in all the talk about electricity and sparks before, but now she did. How could she not after meeting Jace?

It was a few moments before Clary realized she'd stopped moving. Disappointment filled her veins as she saw that they had reached her building.

"This is me," she said, trying the best she could to sound unaffected.

Jace led her up the short flight of stairs, dislodging his arm from its place around her shoulders and putting his hands in his pockets. She frowned as a blast of cold air hit her, and she hugged herself in an attempt to get warm again.

"This is you," Jace repeated, sounding lost as though he weren't quite sure what to do next.

"Thank you, Jace. For everything," Clary said after a few moments of silence, knowing that the words weren't enough. He'd pulled her out of what could have been one of the most painful nights of her life, thinking that she was unloved and unwanted, and turned it into one of the best nights of her life.

One side of his mouth quirked up. "No need. I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

She smiled gratefully, willing her feet to move toward the door. They didn't. Rather than focusing on that sole task, she let her eyes roam his face, impulsively pausing when she reached his lips. She found herself wondering what it would be like to kiss him. If one touch from Jace could elicit such strong feelings, what would a kiss be like?

She so badly wanted to reach up and pull his head down to meet hers, but her limbs stayed planted to their spots, unwilling to move. Her fingers twitched, this time not to draw but to attach themselves to golden curls.

"Clary?" Jace said in a rough voice, taking two steps closer.

"Yeah?" Clary replied half-attentive, her gaze still stuck on his lips.

He leaned down, placing one hand on her cheek and the other around her waist. His hot breath fanned out over her lips, making her shiver. "I'm going to kiss you now," he whispered.

"Okay," she said, her voice shaking.

And then his lips were on hers, and liquid fire filled her from head to toe. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to get lost in him, sliding one hand up to twist into his hair. Her other hand gripped a fistful of shirt in order to stay steady, as her legs felt quite weak at the moment. The hand on her face slowly made its way to the back of her neck where it slid into her curls, slightly tugging.

Clary wasn't sure how long it lasted—it could have been days and she wouldn't have noticed—but when Jace finally broke the kiss, they didn't bother to move away from each other. As they caught their breath, Jace leaned forward and rested his forehead on hers. Clary couldn't help but smile, opening her eyes to meet molten gold.

"If my theory is correct," Jace said, "this is the part where I ask you out on a real date."

Clary giggled, bringing her hands to clasp around his neck. "I don't know...I think you had better test that theory out, just in case it's wrong. All in the name of science, of course."

Jace chuckled, pulling his head off hers and tracing his hands down her sides. "Of course. But I need to test it properly, and it seems that I'm missing two thirds of your name—which is very important to the testing process."

Clary rolled her eyes but couldn't seem to get rid of the smile on her face. She doubted she'd be able to for days.

"Fairchild. Clarissa Adele Fairchild," she said in a voice dangerously close to a whisper.

Jace smiled, brushing a piece of hair from her face. He looked at her with an emotion she couldn't place, but if the warmth and comfort and safety she felt from it meant anything, she liked it.

"Well then," Jace said. "Clarissa Adele Fairchild,"—A shiver went through her at the sound of her name rolling so effortlessly off his lips—"would you do me the great honor of accompanying me to dinner tomorrow night?"

Clary's grin grew even wider than before, causing Jace to chuckle. "Well," she slowly said, pretending to think about his offer, "in the name of science, I accept your invitation."

"Wonderful," he said, kissing her forehead and stepping back from their embrace. "I'll call you."

She smiled and watched him as he sauntered back to the sidewalk, flashing her one more smile before walking in the opposite direction.

"Wait!" Clary called out, suddenly aware of one certain fact. Jace turned. "How can you call me? You don't have my number!"

Even from this distance Clary could see his smirk. "You're right!" he said. "I have something even better!"

And with that, he turned back around and walked until he disappeared into the darkness of the night.

* * *

"So, how did it go?"

Clary jumped in alarm, not expecting anyone else in her apartment. "Simon?! Izzy?! What are you doing here?!"

Isabelle shot her an obvious look from her place on the couch, munching on a piece of popcorn before answering. "We wanted to be here in case of emergency."

"Emergency?" Clary repeated dubiously.

"Yes, emergency. You know—a broken heart, tears, a need for an ungodly amount of mint chocolate chip ice cream," she replied. "We even brought a bunch of cheesy chick-flicks to cry over."

"Although," Simon said with a slow, skeptical look at Clary, "it looks like that will no longer be necessary."

Breaking out into the same grin as before, she took off her shoes and slipped out of Jace's jacket she forgot she had.

"Simon is right," Clary confirmed. "I will no longer be needing the break-up remedy."

Reaching forward to pause the movie—Star Wars, Clary gleaned with a roll of her eyes—Isabelle whirled on Clary. "So, you didn't break up? You had a good time and talked things out? You're going to work on your relationship?"

Clary scoffed, walking over and plopping herself down between the two lovebirds, taking a handful of popcorn and shoving it into her mouth despite herself.

"Hey!" Simon exclaimed.

Ignoring him, Clary chewed and swallowed before answering. "Oh, God no."

Isabelle looked dumbstruck for a moment. "But...I don't understand."

"He didn't show up," Clary elaborated. "I waited for thirty minutes before I finally believed that he wasn't coming. We are _so_ broken up."

"No offense," Simon said with a protracted pause as Clary ate another handful of popcorn, "but why are you so happy?"

"Simon!" Isabelle hissed.

"What?!" he exclaimed. "It's a genuine question!"

"It's all right, Izzy," Clary laughed. "And to answer your question, Si, I met someone."

Knowing it would take some time for her words to sink in, Clary snatched the remote from Isabelle and pressed play, taking the popcorn bowl and placing it solely in her lap. She quietly munched on the snack while she watched Luke Skywalker's hand separate from the rest of his body.

And then the shouting commenced.

" _What?!"_ Isabelle screeched, smacking Clary's arm away from the popcorn bowl and successfully preventing her from feeding herself another mouthful. "What do you mean, you met somebody?!"

"It's exactly what it sounds like, Iz," Clary replied, smirking.

"Details, Clary! Details!"

"Clary, I never thought I would say this, but here goes: We. Need. _Details_ ," Simon said shamelessly.

Clary giggled and paused the movie again, knowing that Simon would kill her if she let it play for the entirety of their conversation—he had a strife with the use of the rewind button for a reason unknown even to her.

"Well, after I figured out that Sebastian had stood me up, I was getting ready to leave. But right as I was sliding out of my booth, this complete stranger shows up and kisses my cheek, telling me that he's sorry he was so late and that the traffic had been crazy. Then he leans in and tells me to roll with it, and that whoever hadn't bothered to show up was an asshole. And then he just slid into the empty seat across from me as if it were completely normal," Clary said, a larger smile forming at the memory.

"That is so romantic!" Isabelle squealed. "Then what did you do?!"

"We talked a lot," Clary said and shrugged half-heartedly. "He never once asked about the stand up, as if he already knew that would be a touchy topic. After we finished dinner, he told me to order dessert, and so I did, and he let me have it all."

"Awh!" Isabelle cooed

"So, let me get this straight," Simon said. "You ate your entire dinner, an entire dessert, and yet you're still sitting here eating _my_ popcorn?"

"Oh, shove off, Simon!" Isabelle ridiculed. Clary smirked as she grabbed another handful just to spite him. He only rolled his eyes. "Then what, Clary?"

"Well, then he paid for the entire meal, including dessert, and refused to let me pay even the tip!" Clary exclaimed, still a bit frustrated. "He wouldn't let me pay him back, either."

"So, he's a gentleman! Good!" Isabelle said chipperly, not sensing Clary's leftover irritation at Jace's actions yet giving her her complete and utter attention. Clary knew that she was hanging onto every single word she said.

"After that, he told me he was going to walk me home, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. He held the door for me and offered up his coat when I told him I forgot mine at home. And when that was all said and done, he put his arm around me and we talked about his family for most of the way back." Clary smiled at her lap, thinking about the warmth Jace gave her both intentionally and unintentionally.

"What's he like?" Isabelle asked. "You know, other than romantic and sweet and kind."

"I'm right here, you know," Simon muttered under his breath.

Clary laughed, closing her eyes as she pictured Jace: golden hair, amber eyes, tanned skin, and that little chip in his left incisor.

"He's the most handsome man I've ever seen," Clary said dreamily. "He's charming, and he's caring, and he's respectful. He's also a bit conceited at times, but he doesn't mean for it to be vain—not really. Oh! And when I accused him of coming over because he felt bad for me, he told me that he did it because he thought I was beautiful and didn't deserve to be stood up!"

Isabelle sighed, looking dreamy herself. "I thought guys like that could only be found on the Hallmark channel."

"I'm right here!" Simon said again, this time loud enough for Isabelle to hear. Clary giggled and rested her head tiredly on his shoulder.

"Oh, shut up, Simon. I love you, you know that," Isabelle said.

Simon jutted his bottom lip out in a piteous pout, then sighed when neither girl acknowledged it and reeled his lip back in. "For what it's worth," he said to Clary, "I like this guy much better than Sebastian."

"Me too," Clary agreed.

"Me three," Isabelle sighed. Clary stifled a laugh. A relaxed silence took over the three companions until Izzy suddenly snapped up, her raven black hair whipping out to cover a wide radius; Clary expertly dodged the long and painful tendrils of flying hair, but Simon hadn't been so lucky. "Wait, wait, wait!" Izzy exclaimed and threw a hand up as if there were something she was interrupting; Isabelle Lightwood was a naturally dramatic person.

"What is it, Isabelle?" Simon asked, brushing off Isabelle's hair as if it were a daily occurance.

"You were smiling like a lunatic when you got home, and it hasn't slipped off your face once since you walked in that door!" Isabelle said excitedly.

"So…?" Clary prodded.

" _So_ ," Isabelle said exasperatedly. "You kissed him, didn't you?!"

"Isabelle, don't be ridiculous. It wasn't even an official date, of course they didn't kiss. You know, she could just be happy because she had a good time with this guy," Simon objected, scoffing as if the idea of kissing on the first date was absolutely ludicrous.

It was silent for a few beats, and only one of Clary's friends seemed to know that Simon was wrong. "Well…" Clary said, her cheeks pink.

"Oh my God!" Isabelle screeched. "You did, didn't you?! You kissed!"

Smiling sheepishly at Simon, Clary said, "Yes...we kissed."

Simon threw his head back and shook it slowly. "Where did I go wrong? The Clary I raised never would have kissed someone on the first unofficial date. Do you need help? Because if you had been thinking straight then you definitely wouldn't have kissed some guy you barely know on the-"

"First unofficial date, yeah, yeah, yeah," Clary finished, waving him off. "But that's the thing, Simon, I _wasn't_ thinking straight. One minute I was thanking him for tonight, and the next minute my head is fuzzy and my feet are frozen and I'm staring at his lips and he's kissing me and I'm kissing back and I don't know!" Clary took a deep breath, exhaling slowly to compose herself. "It was amazing, Si. I finally felt wanted for the first time. He made me feel wanted," she said with a small smile, her voice far away.

When Clary finally pulled herself back to reality, she and Isabelle waited with bated breath as Simon struggled to form words. Eventually, he sighed, putting his arms around Clary and pulling her in for a quick embrace.

"As long as you know what you're doing. I just don't want you to get hurt again," he mumbled into her hair.

 _Again._ The word hit her like a train.

"I do know what I'm doing," Clary confidently said despite the effect Simon's words had on her. "I just...I have a feeling that he and I are going to get along just fine."

"Speaking of," Isabelle said absentmindedly, "who exactly is this guy?"

Clary shook her head, nibbling on a small piece of popcorn. "You'll know sooner or later," she said with a smirk. "Besides, I'm not one to kiss-and-tell."

"You mean you're not going to tell us what his name is?!" Isabelle exclaimed, appalled.

"Nope," Clary said, popping the 'p'. She quickly resumed the movie before Isabelle could protest.

"But-"

"Isabelle, just leave her be," Simon said. "You've asked enough questions for one night." Clary giggled as she saw him already entranced by the movements on-screen and knew that unpausing the movie had been the right move. Isabelle glared at Clary but she pretended not to notice, leisurely flipping another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

Ten more minutes into the movie, an obnoxious ringing disturbed the quiet room. Isabelle startled as Clary and Simon remained still and quickly grabbed her phone from the end table.

"Guys, I have to take this. You can keep watching the movie; it shouldn't be too long, I don't think," she informed them before treading her way into Clary's kitchen.

"Did you say something?" Simon asked Clary a few long minutes later.

She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Isabelle had to take a call, but she said she wouldn't be too long."

"Isabelle left?" Simon said dazed, finally tearing his gaze from the television. "Oh," he said as he eyed the empty space next to Clary.

"She's in the kitchen," Clary said, nodding her head directly behind her.

"Who was calling?" Simon asked, finally back to reality.

Clary shrugged. "I didn't ask. It's none of my business."

"But it's 9:30pm," Simon pointed out. "Who on earth would be calling her this late on a Saturday night?"

"I don't know, Si. Maybe her mom wanted to check up on her or something; my mom pulls things like that all the time," Clary said tiredly. She sighed, looking down at her dress in distaste. "I'm going to change."

"Well then," Simon kidded. "Leave me all alone. I see how it is."

"Oh, suck it up, you wimp," Clary said as she stood, walking to her room. She quickly threw on a pair of sweatpants and one of Simon's sweatshirts that he didn't know she had. Well, he'd know soon, but it wasn't like he could take it from her. She liked it too much to give it up without a fight, and Simon would much rather lose a sweatshirt than lose a fight to a tiny redhead who was just barely five foot tall, mostly because she and Izzy would never let him live it down. And Clary _would_ win.

Walking back out into the living room, Clary was surprised to see that the movie was paused and Isabelle and Simon were sitting together on the couch, staring at her with unblinking eyes.

"Do I have a leaf in my hair or something?" Clary said warily. "Because you guys are starting to freak me out."

Simon smirked and threw his feet up on the coffee table, casually putting his hands behind his head. Isabelle smirked as well, wiggling her cell phone.

"So, Clarissa," she said with a twinkle in her eye, "what's this about my brother wanting your number so he can take you out to dinner tomorrow night?"


	3. Chapter 3

**So, I'm back! Did you miss me? Did you forget about me? Well, even if you did, I didn't forget you! I made a promise I intend to keep, though I know it sounds literally the last day my promise could be fulfilled...but, oh well! So without further ado, here is Chapter/Part 3 of Stood Up!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments.**

 **Clary**

"You are going to look absolutely beautiful by the time I'm done with you!" Isabelle screeched—very closely to Clary's ear, she might add.

"I'm still mad at you," Clary grumbled, crossing her arms.

She was currently sitting in a wooden chair, her hair being blow-dried by Simon who was surprisingly gentle with his actions. It wasn't that he volunteered to do this; he had been forced into it as much as Clary had been forced to be one of Isabelle's subjects. Clary knew she would look amazing by the end of her makeover, because that was just what Izzy did, but she did not plan on making it painless. She was mad, after all, and she wouldn't be a Fairchild if she didn't show it in the most stubborn way possible.

"Would you let it go already?" Isabelle sighed exasperatedly, organizing her brushes and mumbling to herself about tones and complexion.

"No, I will not 'let it go'!" Clary exclaimed. "Jace called _my_ phone to talk to _me_! Not you!"

Izzy rolled her eyes, testing a piece of Clary's hair. Seemingly satisfied, she nodded at her boyfriend to shut the dryer off.

"And your point is…?" Izzy asked, raising an eyebrow. Clary, who would usually only scowl at the action, hit her quite squarely in the arm. "Hey!"

"You know I hate it when you do that," Clary said, irritated. "And my _point_ is that you had no right to take my phone and not tell me what it was Jace called about!"

"I told you," Izzy scoffed, pushing Simon out of the way and experimentally playing with Clary's curls. "He's taking you on a date tonight."

"You told me what I already knew, Isabelle, which was very, _very_ little," Clary said, glaring through the mirror at the insouciant raven-haired girl.

"Once again, your point is?"

Clary's eyes flashed, but before she could open her mouth again, Simon butt in.

"What I think she's trying to say, Isabelle," Simon began, carefully picking words to appease both girls, "is that she's upset because you took her phone call from Jace, and now she's unaware of what her date tonight will entail. You know she hates being kept in the dark."

As Clary glared on, Izzy sighed and started to pin the red mess up. "Fine. I'm sorry for taking your time to speak with Jace and not telling you what he called you about. Are you happy now?"

Clary huffed, uncrossing her arms. "Go light on the makeup," is all she said.

Izzy smirked knowingly into the mirror. "Why? Because he likes it that way?"

Clary rolled her eyes but didn't deny it.

* * *

The bitterness hadn't lasted long. Simon had had to leave for an emergency deadline at work and instead of acknowledging Clary's silence, Isabelle had chirped happily on about a number of topics. After a while, Clary could no longer take it, and they had fallen into easy conversation, discussing mostly boys ( _cough_ , Jace and Simon, _cough_ ).

"Done!" Isabelle said, pulling back from her bombardment of Clary's face. "And with time to spare!"

Izzy had stayed true to Clary's request, making what little makeup she did have on look natural. She turned her head several times, looking at all angles; her taupe eyelids and black mascara really brought out her eyes, and her defined cheekbones made her face seem sharper, older.

Clary smiled at the girl in the mirror—the girl smiled back.

"Thank you, Izzy," she said, forgetting her earlier frustration.

"Now, for the outfit I was thinking heels, of course, but also-"

"No heels, Izzy!" Clary interrupted. "I don't want to trip!"

Izzy frowned, looking distressed. "But-"

"I'm not wearing heels, Izzy!" Clary said defiantly, standing up in all her five-foot-nothing glory.

Defeated, Izzy slumped. "Fine. But only because you would take them off anyway and where you're going doesn't require them."

Clary perked up at the clue. "And where exactly are we going?"

"Nice try, Clarissa," Isabelle said, emphasizing her name with a roll of the tongue. Clary resisted the urge to hit her again, but she wasn't sure she'd be able to last much longer if Izzy kept playing like this.

The girl in question was currently roaming through Clary's closet, pulling out articles of clothing and scrunching her nose at them in distaste before quickly shoving them back in. Clary sighed and flopped onto her bed. At least Izzy was putting them back; that was a step up from the normal covering of Clary's floor.

"This one!" Izzy suddenly exclaimed, viciously yanking a hanger from the closet and studying the fabric for only a moment. "Put it on! Now!" she demanded, shoving the dress at Clary.

Used to this kind of treatment, Clary stood and took off her current clothes, only leaving her undergarments, and carefully stepped into the navy blue dress. Izzy rushed over and helped her with the zipper, making sure Clary's hair was all in order before going back to look for shoes. While she did that, Clary went to the mirror and studied herself.

The fabric was incredibly soft—probably incredibly expensive, too. But when you went shopping with Izzy and she found something that _'would look perfect on you'_ , the lack of money was no longer a valid protest. Neither was having too many clothes, as Clary had learned.

Apparently, there was no such thing.

The dress's neckline cut into a sharp v, but it wasn't too low for her taste. It hugged what little curves she had on top then flared at her waist and fell loosely to her knees. Clary couldn't help but give a little twirl, watching as the dress billowed out around her.

She had forgotten completely about this dress, which was understandable considering this was probably from shopping trip number 106 (they were at least at number 150 by now), but Clary did like it, and that was saying something considering this was Izzy's pick they were talking about.

"You know, it'd look so much better with-"

"No heels!" Clary repeated, turning away from the mirror.

Isabelle raised her hands in surrender, pulling out a pair of strappy sandals. "Fine, fine! It was just a suggestion!"

Clary rolled her eyes and caught the pair of shoes Isabelle haphazardly threw at her. She slipped them on quickly and straightened up, only to see Izzy smiling like a maniac.

"What...?" Clary dragged out questioningly.

Izzy clapped her hands and squealed obnoxiously, causing Clary to wince. "You're going out with Jace! You're going on a _date_ with my _brother_!" She gasped, putting her hands over her mouth. "We're going to be sisters-in-law!"

Clary blushed furiously. "Isabelle!" Clary reprimanded as she walked into her living room. "It's just one date!"

"Two!" Izzy corrected, following behind her. "Two dates!"

"The first one was unofficial!" Clary yelled. She fumbled with her purse, looking for something to do.

"But you _kissed_!"

"Oh! Look, look, it's Jonathan, my brother! Jonathan is calling me!" Clary said as she saw the name displayed on her phone screen.

"Well, Jonathan can-"

"Jonathan! Hi, Jonathan! What's up?" Clary practically shouted into the phone, turning her back to Isabelle.

"Uh...is everything okay?" came the voice from the other end of the line.

"Okay?" Clary repeated stupidly, then slapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh! Yes, of course! Everything is definitely okay! It's as okay as okay can be! In fact, it's better than okay! It's...it's _okay_ okay!"

"Clary, are you sure you're okay?" Jonathan asked, sounding confused and a little concerned.

Clary turned back around to walk to the couch and saw Isabelle smirking at her. Clary winced. She'd never been a good liar. At least, not when her friends and family were involved.

"Yes, Jon," Clary sighed. "I'm okay, I promise. Anyway, what's going on? Why'd you call?"

Clary could practically see her brother rubbing his temple whilst he contemplated if he should ignore his sister's odd behavior or press for more information. Eventually, Clary guessed that he'd decided it would be easier if he just moved past it.

"Well, I was calling to see what you were doing tonight. Lilith is away for work and Seraphina misses her Auntie Clary," he said.

Clary sighed and sat on the couch. "I actually have plans tonight, Jon. Tell Sera I am so sorry and that I will be sure to bring her a special something next time I see her."

"Clary, you don't need to bring her any more gifts—she has enough art supplies to last her a decade. As long as you visit soon, she'll be perfectly content. Besides, it's almost Christmas," Jonathan assured Clary. "What are you doing tonight?" he asked curiously.

"I, uh…" Clary trailed off. She looked to Izzy, who was currently listening to every word of their conversation, for some sort of help. The girl shrugged. _Thanks for the help._ "I'm hanging out with Izzy and Simon," Clary said quickly, and both girls winced at her pathetic excuse.

It wasn't that she didn't want Jonathan to know about her date, she just...well...

Okay, so she didn't want Jonathan to know about her date. But in her defense, knowing Jonathan, he would have interrogated Clary right at that moment, came over to wait for Jace, then interrogated him as well.

"Clary, you blow them off all the time to come see Sera." Before Clary could open her mouth to argue, Jonathan added, "I know you do, Clary."

Isabelle sniggered. "He's right, you know."

Clary motioned for Izzy to quiet down with an irritated glare thrown over her shoulder. "We have dinner reservations," she tried. "We thought it would be a much-needed change of pace if we went somewhere nice to eat for once."

"So? Cancel. It's not like they'll care," Jonathan said obviously, knowing that normally Clary would have jumped at the chance to see her niece.

"Jon, we've been planning this for weeks! We're already all dressed up to go out, so I can't just cancel on them now. It'll be forever before we get to do something like this again! You know our schedules," Clary said, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

"Okay, okay, I understand," Jonathan finally relented. "I'll just take Sera out to see the lights or something. I know she loves them," he mused.

"Yes! Yes, do that! Oh, Seraphina will love that!" Clary exclaimed, glad to be out of the woods. It was only when Izzy flicked her that she realized she was probably a little _too_ eager.

"Okay, seriously Clary, are you okay?" Jon asked, suspicion in his tone again.

"Yes, yes, I'm okay!" A knock sounded on Clary's door then, and both girls whipped their heads to the source of the noise. "Oh, look! It's Simon! Gotta go, Jon! Bye!" Clary said, cutting off his startled reply by ending the call.

"Smooth," Izzy said, sniggering as she walked to the door.

"Oh, shut up," Clary grumbled, her cheeks flaring to life.

Izzy smirked once more before opening the door to reveal the handsome gold man on the other side. "Hi, big brother," Izzy greeted with a mischievous grin.

Jace rolled his eyes but leaned forward to peck the top of her head nevertheless. "Hey, Izzy."

Clary, suddenly shy and highly aware of her reddened cheeks, slowly walked to the door. Jace broke into a smile as she stepped into view, clutching her handbag with both hands and nervously looking at him. He wore a black v-neck similar to the one he was wearing last night, but with a dark gray blazer thrown over it. They were paired with black skinny jeans and dark brown Oxfords, making the outfit look both casual and put together.

In other words, he looked just as handsome as he did last night. Maybe even more so.

"You look beautiful," Jace said, and Clary flushed at the compliment.

"You too," Clary said without thinking. Her eyes widened. "I mean—no, not beautiful! You don't look beautiful! You're handsome! You look very handsome!" she sputtered, and she felt her neck and ears begin to burn.

Jace chuckled and held his hand out for her. "Shall we get going?"

Clary nodded furiously and went to take his hand but stopped. "Oh, wait! I almost forgot!"

Jace frowned as she took off to her room. He looked to Isabelle, who shrugged as if to say, _I have no idea._

Clary returned a few moments later, her skin faded back to its original color and her arm proffering his coat. "I forgot to give this back last night," she sheepishly said.

Jace chuckled, taking the coat and slinging it over his shoulder. He extended his hand again, and this time she took it. Warmth flooded through her as his larger hand steadily gripped her smaller one—not too tight, not too loose, but with just the right amount of pressure. His hand wasn't sweaty or clammy and was surprisingly pleasant to hold.

 _Of course he's good at holding hands,_ Clary thought. Jace was good at everything, and he'd done nothing to prove her theory wrong thus so far. Then again, she had only known him for a day and had the one comparison that was Sebastian, who, now that she thought about it, was really quite terrible at the boyfriend stuff.

"We'll see you later, Izzy," Jace said as they stepped out the door.

"Have fun, you two! Oh! And be sure to use protection!" Izzy called down the hallway.

Clary let out a surprised squeak of mortification, her cheeks turning a humiliating shade of tomato as the door to her apartment closed. Jace only chuckled, looking amusedly at Clary.

"Just ignore her. She only does it to embarrass you," he said.

"And that doesn't embarrass you?" Clary asked disbelievingly.

Jace shrugged. "I guess after thirteen years you get used to it."

"Yeah, well, I don't think I'll ever get used to it," Clary grumbled as they reached the chilling outdoors. Jace led her to a sleek black car parked on the end of the street, grabbing the keys from his pocket and unlocking its doors. "This is yours?" Clary said in awe, running her fingers over the cool metal.

"It's half mine. My brother and I both use it from time to time, and I borrowed it for tonight," Jace explained as he opened the door for her. She thanked him as she climbed in and buckled, the door shutting after her. He got in shortly after and started the car, and Clary sighed in relief at the hot air that burst out of the vents. "And one last thing," Jace said, capturing her attention as he leaned toward her with a scrutinizing gaze.

"What's that?" Clary asked, her voice wavering slightly.

His hand reached up to touch her hair, and Clary felt him lightly tug at sections of it. He pulled his hand away and dumped the handful of pins he'd gathered into the car's empty cup holder, then went back to tuck a piece of the now unpinned hair behind her ear.

"Much better," he murmured and turned away to buckle up and drive off.

"So, where are we going?" Clary asked a few minutes later.

"Well, I'm glad you brought my coat," he said.

"Why's that?"

"Because you forgot yours."

Clary blinked a few times. "What?"

"How do you feel about picnics?" he clarified as he took a left into a nearby parking garage.

A grin broke out on Clary's face. "We're going on a picnic?"

Due to him currently paying, he didn't see her smile. "That depends solely on your answer."

"I love picnics," she assured him, placing a hand on his forearm. His muscles flexed from underneath her fingers, and butterflies took off in her stomach. He turned and shot a charming smile her way, only making the butterflies worse.

As they parked and the heat stopped flowing, Jace grabbed his coat from the back seat and walked over to Clary's side, opening the door for her.

"Thank you," she said as he helped her into his coat, which was still much too big for her and almost completely hid her dress. He didn't seem to mind, though.

"I didn't exactly have a picnic basket laying around, so this will have to do," he said as he pulled a black bag from the trunk.

Clary laughed and followed his lead, scooping up the pile of blankets before he could protest. "Then I'm afraid this date is a no-go. I only date men who take me on picnics with _real_ picnic baskets."

"Maybe the contents inside will change your mind," Jace smirked as he locked the car.

"And what exactly are the contents?" Clary asked.

Jace leaned over and brushed her hair aside. "It's a secret," he whispered in her ear, causing goosebumps to appear on her skin.

They walked closely together, never quite touching but staying close enough to feel each other's warmth, until they reached a certain spot in the grass of Central Park. Jace took a blanket from Clary and expertly laid it on the ground before gesturing for her to sit.

Clary took a few moments to look around in awe. The lights were beautiful this time of year—it being Christmas, of course—and Jace managed to pick a spot that made those lights look even more beautiful than before.

"Izzy told me you like Chinese," Jace said, making Clary turn to look at him.

Clary smiled as she watched him unload several takeout boxes from the bag. "Do you have Lo Mein?" she asked curiously.

"Yes, but that and the Moo Shu pork are for me. The fortune cookies are for you," he said as he began to sort the boxes. When Clary didn't reply, he turned his amber eyes on her and gave her an amused look—the second one that night. "Clary," he said, "I was joking."

Clary was suddenly thankful for the cover of the night hiding her reddened face. "Oh," she said lamely, taking the offered pair of chopsticks from Jace.

He chuckled and shook his head. "Izzy did tell me it's quite easy to get to you."

Clary rolled her eyes, taking a bite of her noodles. "What didn't she tell you?" she said, a little annoyed.

"Well," he said thoughtfully, "she never mentioned your favorite color."

Clary looked blankly at him. "It was a rhetorical question."

"I know, but mine wasn't," Jace said simply. "What's your favorite color?"

"Gold."

Her cheeks flared up again; it slipped before she could think about it.

 _Whatever happened to blue?_

She eyed Jace's smirk and quickly took another bite of her Lo Mein, still warm against the cold air.

"Oh, really?" he questioned, still smirking.

Clary nodded, looking back up to meet his dancing eyes. "What's yours?" she quickly asked, looking forward to moving on from the subject.

Jace's smirk faded as he gazed at her. Unlike Clary, he waited a few moments before responding. He reached out to touch her hair, and his face was completely serious when he answered, "Green."

She almost choked.

They finished their food in silence, both of them eager to eat before their meals grew cold. And, considering it was December, that time frame wasn't a very large one. Jace stacked their empty boxes and chopsticks, walking to a nearby trash bin to throw them away.

Clary was surprised to see that there weren't many people out tonight; it was a Sunday night, after all. Then again, it was also the middle of December at seven o'clock at night, which meant that the already freezing temperatures were even colder, and most people probably preferred to stay in where it was heated. But, looking at the arranged lights surrounding her and the twinkling of the night sky above her, Clary didn't see why anyone would choose to stay inside over a beautiful view like this.

"What are you thinking about?" Jace quietly asked as he took his spot beside her, leaning back on his hands. Clary shifted her body so she was sitting cross-legged; the certain position would usually give others a clear shot of her underwear, but with Jace's coat on, her legs were completely covered.

"Just about how beautiful it is out here," Clary responded, gesturing to the strung-up bulbs.

Jace smiled, looking to where she was pointing. "I thought you would be the type of person to enjoy the lights."

"You thought correctly," she said, folding her hands together to stop her fingers' twitching. Clary knew she was on a date, but she really, _really_ wanted to draw the scene around her. She also wanted to draw Jace in it, but she'd never tell him that.

"Tell me more about you," Jace said suddenly, straightening up.

"Like what?" Clary asked, caught off guard.

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Anything."

Clary rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the help," she sarcastically said.

"I'm here to serve," Jace replied with a toothy grin. Clary couldn't help but smile when she spotted the chipped incisor.

"Seriously, Jace," she laughed. "What do you want to know?"

His grin faded back into a gentle smile as he tucked a curl behind her ear. "Everything."

She fought a blush, studiously biting at her lip. "I don't have much to tell," she admitted.

"Of course you do," Jace argued, rubbing a piece of her hair between his fingers. "I highly doubt that someone as elaborate as you doesn't 'have much to tell'."

"Well, maybe it would be easier if I were asked a specific question," she pointed out, surprised that she was still not blushing.

Jace chuckled, dropping the curl he was playing with. He turned and grabbed another blanket from the pile, throwing it over Clary's shivering form—she hadn't known she was—and tucking it tightly around her shoulders. Jace was sure to cover her small frame completely before grabbing one for himself.

"How about we talk about your friends? Considering we mainly focused on family yesterday," he said, looking attentively at her.

"You already know Izzy," Clary said with a look.

"I do, but I want to know more. Plus, I do remember that she is only your 'second bestest friend'," Jace said, quoting with his fingers.

Clary chuckled. "Fine. What do you want to know, exactly?"

"The basics," he said. "How you met, how you became friends, how you stand to put up with her-"

Clary cut him off with a good-natured shove, lightly nudging him with her shoulder and laughing. "She is your sister, you know."

"Which is why I can rightfully ask questions such as that," Jace defended.

Giggling once more, Clary said, "We met just a few years ago in college. She was in fashion, I was in art, and we happened to attend the same fine arts school. We were partnered to collaborate for a few projects, we worked well together, and before I knew it we were planning dates to hang out outside of our projects and having fun whilst doing so." Clary shrugged. "I've never really had a real girl friend before, so it's nice to have Izzy—even though she does occasionally harass me at the mall."

Jace laughed at her last statement. "Only occasionally?"

"Okay, more than occasionally," Clary admitted, smiling. "But I love her, so it's worth it. And if you ever tell her I said that I will hurt you," Clary said menacingly, narrowing her eyes.

Jace chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Wouldn't dream of it. I can't risk a face as pretty as mine."

Clary nudged him again, this time a lot less gentle than before. He only laughed, slipping an arm from under his blanket and wrapping it around her. Clary practically melted at his touch, but she tried her best not to show it, moving just a small bit closer to him.

"Are you always like this, or am I just special?"

"You'd have to consult with Alec and Izzy first, but I'm fairly sure it's the first one," Jace said flippantly.

Clary rolled her eyes. "What else did you want to ask me?"

"Tell me about Simon," he said without missing a beat.

"Is this your way of finding out more about your sister's boyfriend?"

"Of course not," Jace denied, shaking his head. Seeing Clary's look, he sheepishly grinned. "Okay, maybe a little. But I do want to know about him because of your connection to him, too. After all, he is your first bestest friend," he said convincingly.

Clary laughed quietly. "Well, I've known Simon ever since I was young. I don't remember a time when he wasn't there, actually. We've been best friends for forever."

"What's he like?" Jace asked curiously.

"Is this-"

"It's not because of Isabelle, I swear. This is purely for the purpose of getting to know you better—not for gathering information about my sister's boyfriend," Jace said quickly, scooting a small distance closer to Clary. She closed her eyes at the contact, resisting the urge to lay her head on his shoulder.

"Well..." Clary began, opening her eyes back up, "he's a huge nerd. Always has been, always will be. He loves comic books and video games more than I think he loves his own family sometimes, but he'd do anything for us when it came down to it—even give away his latest edition of a manga volume. I speak from experience, of course."

Jace groaned. "You're telling me I'm on a date with a nerd?"

She shoved him again, this time with all her might, leaving him to topple over. She laughed at his bewildered expression—she knew she was stronger than she looked.

"Ouch," he said, obviously expecting an apology. He didn't get one. Instead, he got a fit of giggles from the small redhead.

"You should have seen your face!" she managed to get out.

Jace, with nothing else to do, smiled and watched as the girl beside him dissolved into an even more hysteric fit. Clary remained blissfully unaware of his stare as she covered her mouth and curled into herself, trying hard to stop her laughter. She'd always hated her laugh. Well, not always, but she had ever since Sebastian, in one of their many fights, let it slip that he hated her laugh, that it sounded unladylike and too obnoxious for someone her size.

He'd won that night.

Remembering that certain event, Clary's laughs quickly came to a halt, and her hand dropped from her mouth. Jace frowned and parted his lips to say something, but he was interrupted by a sharp squeal of delight.

Both of their heads snapped to the noise, and they quickly stood. A tiny figure could barely be seen from the sidewalk, running toward them with vigor.

"Auntie Clary! Auntie Clary!"

Clary's face broke out into a grin as she spotted the tiny blond. Clary caught her when she sprang up and enveloped her in a hug.

"Hey there, Sera!"

"I missed you, Auntie Clary!" the girl said in delight, hugging her a bit longer before sliding back down to the ground. She opened her mouth and excitedly pointed to a hole in the back of it. "Lookie! I lost my first tooth!"

"Wow! You look older already!" Clary exclaimed. "Has the tooth fairy come yet?"

"No, not yet, but Daddy says that she'll come tonight while I'm sleeping!"

"Speaking of your father, where is he?" Clary asked, looking past her niece to the park beyond.

"We were in line to get some caramel apples, but then I saw you and came to say hi!"

"Did you tell him where you were going?" Clary asked, wincing when she saw the small shake of the blond's head. "Oh, God," she groaned. "Your father is going to kill me."

"Why would he do that?" Seraphina asked, cocking her head to the side.

She put a hand in her coat—Jace's coat—to pull her phone out, and she was suddenly reminded of his presence. She quickly turned to face him, wide-eyed.

"I'm so sorry!" she apologized.

"Don't be," he chuckled.

"Jace, this is my niece, Seraphina. Sera, this is Jace, my...friend," she said, giving Jace a look as if to say, _Just roll with it._

Luckily he did so, squatting down and stretching his hand out for the small girl to shake. She took it quite willingly.

"You're Auntie Clary's friend?"

"Guilty as charged," Jace said with a smile.

"I've never seen you before," she said, a confused frown taking over her face. Clary, despite knowing that Jace meant Seraphina no harm whatsoever, was glad that her niece knew to be wary of strangers.

"I'm a new friend," Jace explained. "I just met your Auntie Clary yesterday evening."

"Oh!" she exclaimed like everything suddenly made sense. "Do you know Aunt Izzy and Uncle Simon? They're Auntie Clary's best friends!"

Both Clary and Jace chuckled at her enthusiasm, and Clary left the blonds to converse while she quickly dialed Jonathan's number.

He picked up on the first ring.

"Oh, thank God you called Clary! I'm in Central Park right now and I can't find Seraphina anywhere! She just ran off! I've been looking for her for the past five minutes, but I can't find her! Please, Clare, I don't know what-"

"Don't worry, Jon. We've got her," she said, wincing. This meant that she would have to expose herself.

"What do you mean, you've got her? I thought you were out to dinner-"

"I am!" Clary said as a defense, but even she knew it was bound to get her nowhere. "Just...not with Simon and Izzy, and not at some fancy restaurant."

"You're on a date," Jonathan guessed, and Clary heard sharp annoyance in his tone. "Well, you could have told me that earlier! I would have understood! I know you and Sebastian are going through a rough patch right-"

"I'm not with Sebastian, Jon," she said quietly.

A confused silence filled the line for a few moments. "You mean you're not with him right now?"

"No, I mean I'm not with him at _all_ ," Clary said, nervously tugging at her hair.

"As in you're no longer...together?"

She took a deep breath, preparing herself for what was to come. "Yes, exactly like that."

Silence resumed while Clary figured the best way to avoid the questions she was bound to receive in a few seconds time. She quickly decided that it would be best to speak before he could.

"Listen, I can see the caramel apple stand from over here. If you follow the sidewalk up to the two curling trees next to the bench and take a left at the crossing, you'll be able to see us. But please, Jon, _please_ be nice to this guy. I really like him, and I don't want you ruining this for me."

"I'll be there in a few," was all he said before hanging up. Clary sighed as she put the phone back into her pocket. He was annoyed that she didn't tell him, she knew. But in her defense, they had only broken up last night and telling Jonathan hadn't exactly been the first thing on her mind.

She internally groaned. She was so screwed. If she told Jon that they had just broken up last night, he would have a fit and accuse her of moving on too fast, though he had never been fond of Sebastian. But if she told him that they'd broken up earlier than the truth, he would be even more annoyed with her for not telling him. And if she told the truth like she knew she ought to, she would be humiliated in front of Jace.

None of those options seemed too propitious.

"Is Daddy mad at me?" a small voice asked from behind Clary.

Clary turned and went to reassure her niece. "Of course he isn't, sweetie. He was terribly worried, but he's not angry with you. Next time though, you should probably wait for him to come with you," she said, watching as Sera's worried look turned into one of relief and slight guilt.

"I'm sorry, Auntie Clary," she apologized.

"You don't have to apologize to me, Sera. I'm just glad that it really was me you saw and not someone else," Clary said.

"I know what you look like, Auntie Clary! I knew you weren't somebody else!" Seraphina defended, looking offended that Clary might have thought otherwise. Before she could reply, however, Sera's eyes flicked past Clary and she shouted, "Daddy!" before sprinting past her.

While she and Jonathan were both distracted, Clary turned back to Jace. "I am so, so sorry," she apologized. "I had no idea they were here."

"I told you not to apologize," Jace laughed, clearly not bothered.

"I know it's only the first date, and you don't have to meet my brother if you don't want to. I can shoo him off-"

Jace rolled his eyes and surprised her with a small kiss to her head. "That won't be necessary, Clary."

"Are you sure?" she asked, her skin tingling from where he mindlessly placed his lips just a few moments ago.

"Positive," he said as Jonathan made his arrival, Seraphina standing beside him.

"Hey, Jon," Clary greeted nervously.

Jonathan surprised her by pulling her in for a hug. "Hey, Clare." He released her and asked, "How are you?"

Clary was struck with a sudden relief; Jon was going to keep his questions about her and Sebastian to himself for now. Sure, she'd get an earful later, but at least it wouldn't be with Jace around.

"I'm good," she truthfully said, knowing that he was really asking how she was dealing with the breakup. "I'm great, actually," she corrected herself, smiling to prove her point.

He seemed temporarily satisfied with her answer, nodding at her smile. He turned to Jace and shot him a friendly smile of his own.

"I don't believe we've met. I'm Jonathan, Clary's older brother," he greeted, sticking his hand out. Jace returned his smile and clasped his outstretched hand. Clary had no way to tell if her brother was gripping it with a bone-breaking pressure or not; she prayed he wasn't.

"I'm-"

"He's Auntie Clary's friend!" Seraphina butted in excitedly.

"Oh, yeah?" Jon asked with a knowing smirk aimed at the couple.

"Yeah," Jace said a bit awkwardly. "I'm Clary's...friend."

Clary covered her mouth to hide her snicker, but both of the boys still managed to notice.

"And he's also Aunt Izzy's brother!" Seraphina said happily.

"You're one of Isabelle's brothers?" Jonathan asked curiously, clearly not fully trusting the word of his five-year-old.

"Yes, I am, actually. I'm the middle brother," Jace clarified.

"Ah, so that must make you Jace," Jonathan said in understanding.

Clary looked at her brother, bewildered. "Wait, how did you know that?"

Jon rolled his eyes. "Really, Clary? She's practically a part of the family. It's not like I've never talked to her before."

"But...I just…" Clary trailed off, her cheeks burning. Jon's eyes lit up.

"You didn't know, did you? You forgot the names of her brothers!" Jon exclaimed in amusement.

"I remembered Alec!" Clary defended, crossing her arms. "And just for the record, I did figure it out!"

Jace sniggered from behind her, and Clary knew he was realizing just how abnormally long it took for her to figure out he was Izzy's brother. He was most likely debating whether to tell Jon that she didn't say anything about knowing his sister until _after_ he informed her of their last name.

"Shut up," Clary snapped at Jace. He didn't.

"Am I missing something here?" Jonathan asked.

Catching Clary's glare, Jace shook his head and said, "Nope. Not at all."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow—Clary huffed for more than one reason—and studied the both of them for a minute. "Okay…" he trailed off, still confused.

"Daddy, can we get the apples now?" Seraphina asked, breaking the silence.

Jonathan seemed to snap back to reality, looking down at his daughter as if he had forgotten she was there. "Yes, of course we can. We'll leave you guys to it," he said to the still sniggering Jace and the sour-faced Clary. He turned to his sister. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

Clary nodded in acknowledgment, accepting a quick hug from Seraphina.

"Bye, Auntie Clary!" Sera said with a grin.

"Bye, Sera," Clary bid, replacing her scowl with a smile.

Surprising all three adults, Seraphina skipped over to Jace and wrapped her tiny arms around his waist, squeezing. Jace, after staring in shock for a few seconds, gently hugged her back.

"Bye, Jace!" she chipperly exclaimed.

"See you later, Seraphina," he said with a pleased smile.

And with that, Seraphina walked to her father and grabbed his hand, pulling him in the opposite direction and animatedly speaking about a movie she'd recently watched at school.

"Well, that went better than I expected," Jace pondered when the two figures were far enough away.

Clary's scowl returned and she turned on Jace, punching him in the shoulder. "You were making fun of me!"

"I was not!" he said, seemingly offended. "Not out loud!"

When she went to hit him again, he caught her hand with a laugh and kissed it. Clary's scowl lost its sincerity immediately, but she wished it didn't; the twinkle in Jace's eye said that he knew he'd won and that he had expected nothing less.

"Shut up," she lamely said.

"I didn't say anything," he pointed out. He continued to hold her hand as they settled back down on the blanket.

"Yeah, but you were thinking about it," Clary said, trying her best to sound annoyed.

"But, dear, I wasn't thinking of anything but how beautiful and sweet and _nonviolent_ you are," Jace said innocently.

 _Thwack._

"Shut up."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys, extra long chapter today! This is actually late...I was meaning to get this part up yesterday in time for Valentine's Day, but as you can see, that didn't exactly work out. I'm a busy woman, all right? (That's a lie. I actually fell asleep while editing.) I tried my hardest, though!;)**

 **I'm sure some, if not all of you, are wondering whether this story actually has a plot or if it is just Clace and sidebar Sizzy, Jillith (Jillith? Lonathan?), and other pairings (wink wink), and the answer is yes, it most certainly does have a plot. It is building right now as you read, though many of you probably do not notice it yet. But it is coming, and the excess Clace is just here for you to fall back on when it's not as... _present_ come soon. So enjoy reading it while you can, because I sure enjoy writing it!**

 **Argh! I knew I would say too much!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments.**

 **Clary**

"You see those three stars right there?" Jace said, moving his arm to point at the sky.

Clary shifted her head on Jace's arm to get a better angle. "Yes, I think so. That's Orion's belt, right?"

"Yeah," Jace said with a grin. "And if you tilt your head just a little more to the left, you should be able to see the rest of him."

About an hour ago Jace had suggested they stargaze. Clary agreed, and they'd shifted their positions to lay on their backs. Over time, she had moved to rest her head on Jace's arm and curled into his side, partly to keep the cold away and partly to increase contact with him. Her entire body was buzzing with warmth from where they touched, cuddled under a blanket together.

"Isn't that Bellatrix right there? Above the belt to the right?" Clary asked, trying her best to point at the bright star.

"How did you know that?" Jace asked, turning his head to look at her.

"What? I can't know any astronomy?" she said, acting offended.

Jace chuckled. "You barely know where any of the major constellations are, so excuse me for assuming you're a rookie in the astronomy field."

"I do too know the major constellations!" she argued.

"Oh yeah?" he smirked. "Then where's Canis Major?"

"...wherever Sirius is?" she said sheepishly, knowing her act was up.

Jace grinned. "And where is Sirius, exactly?"

"I…" She bit her lip, burying herself deeper in his side. "...I don't know."

Jace laughed. "Don't tell me—you're going to ask about constellation Draco next, aren't you?"

She scowled. "At least I read."

"Hey, I read Harry Potter too!" Jace claimed.

She gave him a look. "You—Jace Herondale, anti-nerd enthusiast—read Harry Potter?"

He pondered the question for a few moments, then shrugged. "I watched the movies. Same thing."

"It is not the same thing!" she scoffed, rolling her eyes. At Jace's second shrug, she sighed and gave it up. "How'd you get to be so knowledgeable in astronomy, anyway?" she asked for a change of topic.

Jace smiled, brushing a piece of hair from her face. "My mother—my real mother—loved it. She took me out every Wednesday and Sunday to stargaze and taught me all about the different stars and constellations. When she died, I waited until all of the Lightwoods had gone to bed and continued to go out each Wednesday and Sunday night. I researched everything I could about astronomy and even took extra classes in college. It made me feel closer to her, like she was still here, somehow."

Clary saw the faint longing in his face and moved her hand to cup his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

"You went out alone?" she quietly asked.

Jace nodded. "I wanted to be. I felt it was something that needed be kept just between me and her."

"But it's Sunday, and...I'm here with you," Clary pointed out, her eyebrows crinkling.

Jace opened his eyes and the corner of his mouth curved up. "I wanted to share it with you."

"Why?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Because you're special, Clary." He paused for a few moments, trying to find the right words. "You're...different."

A slow, warm smile appeared on her face. Jace lazily returned it and laid his head back down on the picnic blanket. Her hand dropped from his cheek and slid back to rest on her stomach.

"You see Orion?" Jace said, bringing them back to the beginning of their discussion.

"Yes," she answered when she focused her gaze back to the night sky.

"Look to the left of it, but not too far. Do you see that 'T' shaped line of stars there?" Clary squinted, trying to pick out the letter-shaped stars from the millions of others. Jace, seeing her struggle, added, "The 'T' is sideways and a little crooked, but you should be able to see that big, bright star in the middle connecting the two lines."

"Jace, there's a lot of big, bright stars," she said, trying not to sound as frustrated as she felt.

Jace chuckled. "Here, let me show you." Clary almost jumped when he moved his face next to hers and grabbed her wrist, pulling it out from under the blanket and pointing upward. "Look where I'm looking."

She cautiously moved her head closer to his, trying to match his angle. Eventually, she got close enough to do so. "Okay," she whispered. "I'm looking."

He moved their hands slightly up and to the right, tracing a small line of stars that she hadn't seen before.

"Do you see it now?" he whispered.

"I see it," she said in wonder. "Are the legs those two branches at the end?"

"Yeah," Jace said, somehow closer than before which caused his breath to fan out against her cheek, hot against the bitter cold of December.

"Do you know the names of the stars?" she asked, desperately trying not to show just how affected she was by his close proximity.

"Do you see the very bottom of the branch there?" Jace asked, moving their hands accordingly to point at the small star.

"I see," she whispered.

"That one is named Furud. And the one right above it?" He moved their hands. "That one's Adhara."

Curiously, and a bit struck at Jace's wide knowledge of astronomy, she asked, "What about the other branch?"

"The bottom one is Aludra, and the one connecting the two branches is Wezen," Jace said, then adjusted their hands again to point to the top left of the 'T'. "That one is Muliphen." The right. "Murzim." The middle. "And that one right there—the biggest and the brightest one—is Sirius."

Jace gently lowered their hands back down to rest, and he turned to look at her. She turned as well, looking into the golden eyes that somehow seemed to shine brighter than any of the stars they had just been looking at.

This time it was Clary who closed the distance between them, softly pressing her lips to his. His lips were cold, yet they warmed her in a way that no one else's could.

Unlike last night, the kiss stayed gentle and sweet, only lasting a few seconds before it stopped. Their breaths froze in the air, coming out in small puffs. A tiny yet insistent beeping sounded in the silence of the night, and Jace smiled.

"Merry Christmas Eve," he whispered.

"It's midnight?" Clary asked.

"It's midnight," he confirmed, pulling away to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Aren't you tired?"

His voice was low. "I've never been more awake."

He kissed her again.

* * *

"Wake up, Auntie Clary! Wake up! Santa came! It's time for presents!"

Clary groaned, stuffing her head under her pillow. Her actions were greeted by the ripping off of her blankets followed by the cold outside air attacking her defenseless body.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, turning her back to get a good look at whoever was waking her at this ungodly hour.

"If I have to wake up, so do you," Jonathan said with a tired smirk, grabbing her leg and dragging her off the bed. She just managed to catch herself before she fell and shot her brother a glare.

"What time is it, anyway?" she yawned, looking around her childhood room for a clock.

"It's seven," Jon said. "Seraphina's been up for at least two hours now staring the presents down; I'm surprised she waited this long to wake us all up."

She sighed, rubbing her eyes as she followed Jon downstairs, not bothering to change out of her rather cold pajamas—her baby blue tank top and shorts set wasn't exactly winter material.

"Merry Christmas, you two!" Clary's mother exclaimed when they reached the bottom of the stairs, and she went to wrap her children in a large, suffocating hug.

"Merry Christmas, Mom," Clary laughed.

Jocelyn released them after a minute or two and ran back over to the living room. Clary smiled as memories reformed in her mind: childhood Christmases filled with who would beat who down the stairs first and all-you-could-eat breakfast buffets, her mother and Luke's first Christmas together, the Christmases that Lilith and baby Seraphina had joined with time.

"Merry Christmas, Clare," Jonathan said from beside her, and when she turned to look at him she could tell that he was thinking about the same things as her.

"Merry Christmas, Jon."

"Daddy, Auntie Clary! Come on!" came the desperate voice of the wide-awake blonde, her green eyes shining as bright as the lights on the Christmas tree behind her.

"We're coming!" Clary said, laughing as she went to take a seat on the couch beside Luke. Her step-father wrapped an arm around her, giving her a quick squeeze.

"Merry Christmas, Clary," he said with a smile, his glasses, which were eerily similar to Simon's, slipping down his nose.

"Merry Christmas, Luke," she replied.

"Merry Christmas, Clary!" her sister-in-law said from the other side of the room where Jonathan had now taken his seat.

"Merry Christmas, Lilith!"

Lilith shot her another smile before turning her attention to her husband, murmuring something to him and giving him a quick kiss. Clary smiled at the two.

No one but Jonathan knew about her and Sebastian's breakup; she had explained the whole story to him last night when she arrived at their old home on the outskirts of the city. He had understood, of course, and was even happy for her. He seemed to have taken a liking to Jace. Probably, she guessed, because of Seraphina's instant liking of him. After all, children were said to have the best judge of heart.

"Why don't you open your present from Santa?" Lilith suggested to Seraphina, who was hurriedly sorting through the large pile of gifts, getting small evergreen needles in her hair as she did so.

Jocelyn finally took her seat, plopping herself down next to Clary and turning on the camera in her hands.

"I can't find it!" Seraphina whined.

"Here, I'll help you," Jonathan offered and walked to the tree, helping her sort through the different wrapping paper.

"Found it!" Seraphina declared and ran to sit on her mother's lap. Lilith laughed at her enthusiasm, running her hands lovingly over her daughter's hair.

"Open it, then! We're all waiting!"

Jonathan took his seat beside the family he helped make, smiling at the both of them with something that could only be described as love. Jocelyn lifted the camera and snapped a few pictures of her only grandchild as she ripped open the gift and her whole face lit up.

"What is it, sweetie?" Jocelyn asked with a smile, peeking over the top of the camera.

"It's a mermaid blanket!" Seraphina said in awe, ripping through the gift even further to pull out a small, comfortable looking purple blanket. She giggled as she held it up for everyone to see, smiling at the camera when Jocelyn disappeared behind it again.

That was another thing about Seraphina: she was not camera shy.

"Now it's time to sort the rest of the presents out!" Luke said, standing up with Jonathan and going to the tree.

The gifts quickly piled up; it looked as if no one had had a stingy year this year. Seraphina didn't wait, ripping through her gifts almost as quickly as she got them, only pausing for her grandmother to take pictures. She gasped at the opening of one of her many presents and gently held up a delicate set of paints for the room to see. "Thank you, Auntie Clary! Thank you!"

The little girl leaped from her seat and rushed over to Clary, careful not to step on any of the gifts overflowing the living room. She wrapped her arms around Clary, and Clary laughed as she hugged her back.

"You're very welcome, Sera," she said.

A deep ache spread throughout her chest as she watched her niece fly back to her parents, excitedly showing them the gift that Auntie Clary had gotten her. She watched Lilith and Jon as they looked first at their daughter and then at each other, their eyes burning with overwhelming joy and love. Clary's eyes burned as well, but it wasn't because of joy _or_ love.

"What's wrong, Clary?" her mother whispered, and she paused the unwrapping of her gift.

"Nothing!" she exclaimed, ripping her gaze from her brother and his family to her mother, smiling convincingly at her. Clary could tell that she didn't buy it, but, surprisingly, she didn't push for answers. Maybe it was because of Christmas that she decided to let it go, or maybe it was because she already knew what Clary was thinking about and knew it was something better left untouched.

An hour and at least one hundred camera snaps later, the gifts and stockings had all been torn open, and wrapping paper and bows littered the cream colored carpet. Clary and Lilith volunteered to help Jocelyn cook while the boys cleaned up the living room, just like every other year. Seraphina, of course, wrapped herself in the mermaid-blanket from Santa and began to play with whatever gifts she could.

"So," Lilith said as she cracked two dozen eggs into a large pan, "What's new with you, Clary? I feel like I haven't spoken to you in forever!"

She shrugged, smiling at the blond-haired woman. She reminded Clary a lot of Izzy, what with her height and beauty. The only difference between them was the blond versus black hair and Izzy's obsession with shopping. Other than that, the two women were practically the same—they even shared the same eye color (dark brown, almost black).

"Nothing, really. Same old, same old," Clary replied, trying not to get hit by the splattering bacon grease.

"Well, how are you and…" Lilith paused with a frown. "Who was it you were seeing?"

"Yes, Sebastian! How is everything with him?" Jocelyn asked with a forced smile. Clary fought the urge to scowl; how had she not noticed the extreme dislike coming from her family before? If her own mother had hated him, how could she have ever liked him herself?

"Well…" Clary awkwardly said, her cheeks turning pink.

"Ooo, ooo, ooo! What is it that we're talking about? I want to be in on embarrassing Clary!" Jonathan interrupted as he walked into the kitchen and stole a piece of bacon. Clary whacked him with her fork, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Jonathan," said his mother disapprovingly. He didn't seem to notice that either.

He leaned against the countertop, looking at the girls. "So? What are we talking about?"

"Is it something I can be a part of as well?" Luke asked, joining them in the kitchen.

Clary huffed, turning her attention back to the unloading of the bacon.

"We were just asking about her and Sebastian," Lilith explained, shaking salt and pepper over the scrambled eggs.

"Oh, yes. How is that boy? We haven't seen him in awhile," Luke chimed in, stealing another piece of bacon from the passing Clary. She couldn't bring herself to care, though, as she was currently distracted by a different issue. She glanced over her shoulder and shot her older brother a look that had, _Help me,_ written all over it.

But apparently she should have specified her definition of help, as Jonathan's definition included him saying the words, "Clary and Sebastian broke up a few days ago. Didn't she tell you?"

"Jonathan!" she shouted, her cheeks burning. His mouth formed an 'o' as he realized his mistake, and he looked truly sorry as the smiling faces around Clary shifted into ones of surprise.

"You and Sebastian broke up?" Jocelyn questioned, her attention diverting from the pancakes for a moment.

"Yes, we broke up," Clary admitted in a mumble.

"Oh, sweetie, why didn't you tell us?" Jocelyn asked, wrapping her arms comfortingly around her daughter. Luke automatically took her place at the griddle, flipping the golden pancakes onto the large platter beside it.

Clary sighed and buried her face in the red curls almost identical to hers. "I didn't want you to worry about me. I didn't think it was a big deal."

"Clary, of course it's a big deal!" Lilith exclaimed, joining the hug. "You've been dating for forever! I mean, we all knew you were going through a rough patch, but you always seemed so determined to work things out that we didn't think to ask if you were still okay," Lilith said in an apologetic tone.

Clary blinked tears away. She didn't know why she suddenly had the urge to cry. She hadn't cared that she and Sebastian were through for several days now; in fact, she would even go so far as to say she was relieved.

"It's okay, guys. Really," she said, squeezing her mother tighter. "It's fine. _I'm_ fine."

Jocelyn slowly pulled back, looking concernedly into Clary's eyes. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm sure," she said with a small smile. "I told him that if he stood me up one more time we were done, and...well, I think you can guess what happened."

Jocelyn sighed, pulling her in for one more quick hug. "I'm so sorry, honey."

"It's okay, Mom," Clary said, taking a deep breath. "Let's just eat breakfast."

Luckily they all left the subject alone at the table, probably assuming that it was too sensitive to be poking at. And, if she was being honest with herself, it was, in a way. She hadn't allowed herself to think too much of Sebastian lately—mostly due to the distraction of Jace—but it still hurt to some extent. It hurt to think that she wasn't enough for him, that he chose some girl he was probably having a one night stand with over his girlfriend.

She didn't miss Sebastian per se, but she did just get out of a two and a half year relationship with her first love. She was allowed to harbor some not-so-positive feelings about that, right?

"Well, as always, that was amazing," Luke said, leaning back in his chair.

"It truly was," Jon agreed, stretching with a groan.

"Can I have another pancake, Grandma?" Seraphina asked. Clary couldn't help a small grin at the sight of sticky syrup all over her niece's hands.

"Of course," Jocelyn replied, handing Lilith the pancake to butter. "Do you know what time Isabelle and Simon are coming, Clary?"

She shrugged. "They said they'd be here when gift giving was over at their house. Maryse and Robert both have to work today, so she thought they'd be over sooner rather than later. They might end up bringing Max with them, I'm not sure," Clary answered, nibbling on her last piece of bacon.

"Well, any of them are welcome," Jocelyn said with a smile.

Clary's cell phone began to ring then, and she excused herself, walking briskly into the living room.

"Hello?"

"Hey, biscuit! Merry Christmas!" came the voice from the other end of the line.

"Magnus!" she exclaimed with a smile. "Merry Christmas to you, too! How are you?"

"I'm fabulous, thank you for asking. And while I did call to wish you a Merry Christmas, I also called because I heard from darling Isabelle that you got dressed up without me, and I find that very offensive," he said, affronted.

She laughed. "You're a busy man, Magnus. How was I supposed to know you'd be free that night?"

"Biscuit, I'm always free when it comes to prettying you up!" Magnus said in indignation.

"Noted," she giggled. "And it wasn't a big deal, Mags. It was just a date."

"But it was a date with not Sebastian!" he argued.

"You didn't like him either, did you?" She sighed, already knowing the answer.

"Of course, I didn't like him! Who would?"

Clary rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks for the support there, Mags."

Magnus scoffed. "I support you saying goodbye to his sorry ass, but I will not support you being in a relationship with a two-timing, nasty, cheating son of a-"

"Okay, Magnus! I think I get it!" Clary interrupted, annoyed.

Silence filled the line. "Are you all right, biscuit?" her friend asked in concern.

Clary sighed and ran her fingers through her tangled curls. "I don't know, Mags. I haven't been upset once about our breakup, but…" She trailed off, not exactly sure what she was so upset about. "I shouldn't be upset, right? It's Christmas! Besides, he was no good for me."

"I'm coming over," Magnus declared, and Clary could already hear him exiting his apartment.

"Magnus, no! You don't have to do that!"

"You're at your mom's and Luke's, right?"

Clary gave in, knowing that there was no point in arguing with him. "Yes. Izzy and Simon and possibly Max will be coming too, so you might as well join the party."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes, okay, biscuit?"

The call ended, and Clary tossed her phone onto the couch. She walked back into the kitchen where everyone but Lilith and Seraphina were cleaning up.

"Hey, Mom? You remember Magnus from college, right?" Clary asked her mother.

"No offense, but he's kind of hard to forget, Clary," Jocelyn said with a look.

"Right," she laughed. "Is it all right if he comes?"

"Of course it is! The more, the merrier!" she consented.

Clary nodded, relieved. "Good. Because he's kind of already on his way."

Jocelyn laughed. "Could you take over the dishes for me, hun?"

She agreed and quickly took her place in front of the sink full of bubbles as Jocelyn hurried into the dining room to gather more dishes and clean off the table.

"So, Clarissa," Jonathan said with a glint in his eye, "aren't you going to tell them about your new special someone?"

"Jonathan!" Lilith shouted as she came into the kitchen. "That was rude!"

Clary blushed and shot her brother a murderous glare, trying to ignore the intense looks she was getting from the rest of the room's occupants.

"Clary, I know I just scolded my dear husband for his rudeness, but you can't expect us to let it go," Lilith pointedly said, waving a spoon at her.

"Is it true?" Jocelyn asked curiously as she loaded a stack of plates into the dishwasher. "That there's someone new?"

"Yes," Clary mumbled just loud enough for everyone to hear. "It's true."

Lilith squealed. "Oh my gosh, Clary! How could you not have told us this before?!"

"It's not anything serious!" Clary defended, but she heard a tiny voice in her head that said differently. "We've only been on one date!"

"Two," Jonathan corrected, sneaking a piece of pancake into his mouth.

She huffed in frustration. "The first one doesn't count, Jonathan. It wasn't an official date."

"I think it counts if you kissed," he said with a smirk.

Several gasps ensued and Jocelyn perked her head up, eyes shining. "You've kissed?!" she shouted in delight.

"Jonathan!" Clary hissed, her cheeks burning.

"What's his name?" her mother asked excitedly. "What's he like? When did you meet? How were your dates? Is he a good kisser?"

"Mom!" she laughed. "Slow down! You're worse than Isabelle!"

"I am your mother, Clarissa! I have the right to ask these questions!"

Clary smiled and shook her head as she rinsed off the last dish. "His name is Jace," she informed the room and dried her hands off, turning to face the small crowd of people. "He's fun, and he's handsome, and he's kind. We met the night Sebastian stood me up; he stood in for him to save me the embarrassment of leaving alone. Both of our dates were amazing. He's special, Mom," she added with a barely perceptible smile, remembering Jace's words. "He's different."

Jocelyn's face broke into a large grin, as did Lilith's. A knock sounded from the front door and Seraphina shouted her intention to get it from the other room.

"Well?" Luke said from beside Clary as new voices floated into the house.

"Well, what?" Clary's asked, looking at him with a frown.

"Is he a good kisser?"

She laughed, then, seeing the calm look on Luke's face, stopped. "Wait, you're serious?"

Luke shrugged. "I'm completely serious."

"Really, Luke?" He gave her an innocent look and she rolled her eyes, her cheeks flaming. "Fine. Yes, he is."

Jocelyn sighed, making Clary turn to her. "Clary, you're going to have to give us a more convincing answer than that. Now, is he or is he not a good kisser?"

"He's a fantastic kisser, okay?" she snapped, embarrassed.

"Better than Sebastian?" Lilith piped in, flicking her eyes to something over Clary's shoulder.

"Sebastian hardly even held my hand! Of course Jace is the better kisser!" she said exasperatedly. "Are you happy now?"

"Very, actually," came a familiar chuckle from behind Clary. She froze, her entire face and neck turning the exact shade of her hair.

"Jace?" she squeaked out, though she already knew.

"Present," he chimed in that sickly sweet voice of his.

She slowly turned to where he stood, looking perfect as always. She was suddenly aware of her unbrushed hair and pajama-clad form.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice higher than normal.

Before he could reply, Seraphina popped up over the counter. "Auntie Clary, look!" she said ecstatically. "It's Jace! And Aunt Izzy and Uncle Simon and Aunt Izzy's other brothers are here, too!"

"Yes, I hope that's all right with you, Jocelyn," Isabelle said, appearing at the counter. "I just thought it would be nice if the rest of our family didn't have to split up on Christmas."

Jocelyn hurried to the other side, grinning as she saw the new additions in her home. "Yes, of course, it's all right! You know me—I love company! And there's plenty of food to go around!"

Izzy smiled as Jocelyn wrapped her up in a hug, moving onto Simon next. A black haired man just as tall and—dare she say it—handsome as Jace moved into the kitchen with Max. Clary had met Max before, as she'd lent him several of her mangas and comics, but she hadn't seen him in awhile. However, the man standing next to Max was completely foreign to her, though she had a pretty good idea of who it could be.

"Hey, Clary," Max greeted with a grin.

"Hey, Max," she said, returning his smile.

"This is my oldest brother, Alec," Izzy introduced, pointing to the quiet black haired man that Clary had yet to properly meet. "That's Jace, as you all know by now, and Max, my youngest brother."

A chorus of, "Nice to meet you," sounded throughout the room.

"Your gifts are underneath the tree," Luke said to Izzy and Simon. "Go crazy."

Neither of them tried to protest the gifts, which surprised Clary; they had protested every year—Izzy for three but Simon for longer—until Jocelyn finally told them to 'cut it out and just accept the damned things'. It seemed that they had taken her words to heart now and learned that the gifts wouldn't stop just because they resisted them.

"Auntie Clary, can I get out my paints now?" Seraphina asked excitedly, tugging at her elbow.

Clary looked to Lilith who nodded. "We probably could. We should do it in my room, though. We don't want to stain the nice carpet."

It was at that moment that another knock was heard. Seraphina ran to the door, opening it up wide.

"Magnus!" Izzy exclaimed in surprise, looking up from her place in the living room.

"Hello, Isabelle," he greeted with a smile as dazzling as his outfit.

Magnus was a rather...eccentric man. He was very secure in his preferences, showing that particular confidence through glitter, eyeliner, glitter, scarves, skinny jeans, and glitter. Lots and lots of glitter. Not that Clary had ever had a problem with it.

"You know Aunt Izzy?" Seraphina questioned, and Clary was reminded that her niece had never met Magnus.

"Magnus is one of Aunt Izzy and I's good friends," she explained.

"Ah, there you are, biscuit!" Magnus said as he walked into the kitchen, gathering Clary into a suffocating embrace.

"Magnus!" she laughed. "Air is necessary to live!"

"I brought you chocolate," he whispered in her ear as he pulled away, patting his glitter-covered pocket and winking. "I'm here whenever you need it."

She smiled gratefully at him. "Merry Christmas, Mags."

He grinned. "Merry Christmas, biscuit."

"Can we go now, Auntie Clary?" Seraphina asked impatiently.

Clary laughed at her persistence. "Magnus, Izzy will introduce you to everybody. I would, but I have more pressing matters to attend to," she said, pointing to her niece.

"Of course," Magnus said, waving a dismissive hand. "The art world waits for no one."

She rolled her eyes and told Seraphina to search for the paints in her pile of gifts. While she did that, Clary walked over to where Jace was standing.

"Did Izzy drag you here, or did you volunteer?" she asked.

Jace looked thoughtful. "I think, if I'm remembering correctly, it was a bit of both."

Clary laughed. "Isn't it always a bit of both with Izzy?"

Jace smiled and tucked a piece of tangled hair behind her ear. A shiver went through her as his fingers brushed her cheek. "Merry Christmas, Clary."

"Merry Christmas, Jace," she replied, and she returned his smile with one of her own.

"I found them, Auntie Clary!" Seraphina exclaimed, now beside her. "Now can we go?"

Clary smiled apologetically at Jace and picked her niece up, swinging her onto her hip. "If they," she said, nodding her head toward the crowd, "get to be too much for you, I'm the second door to the right."

Jace chuckled and lazily kissed her cheek. She flushed at the amused pairs of eyes that focused on them, but Jace didn't seem to notice—or care, more likely. "I'll keep that in mind," is all he said.

"Actually, before everyone starts separating, we have some news we'd like to share," Simon announced, gathering the attention of everyone in the house. Isabelle stood beside him, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Simon proposed!" Izzy squealed, holding up her left hand for all to see.

"Oh my God!" Clary blurted in shock. "Are you serious?!"

"I met her family a few months back when we were just pretending to be friends, but I got permission from Robert a week ago as the boyfriend, so, yes," Simon said with a goofy grin. "We're getting married."

The room broke out into an excited rush, and Clary set Seraphina down so she could run and gather her two best friends in a hug. "You've been dating for three years!" she shouted. "It's about time!"

They all laughed, and while the boys swooped in to congratulate Simon, Izzy showed the girls the ring. It was silver with three small diamonds elaborately centered and placed on top. It didn't scream riches or trendiest ring of the year, yet it fit Izzy perfectly.

"It's beautiful!" Jocelyn gasped. "You did a wonderful job, Simon!"

"Thank you, Jocelyn," he grinned. Clary smacked his arm. "Ow!" he exclaimed, giving her an offended look. "What was that for?!"

"For not telling me you were going to propose!" she yelled, hitting his arm again. Then she wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing as if her life depended on it. "I'm happy for you," she said just loud enough for him to hear.

Simon held her delicately. "Love you, Clare."

"Love you too, Si," she said, and, just like earlier, a deep ache started in her chest, making tears spring to her eyes.

"Hey, are you all right?" Simon asked, alarmed.

"I'm just so happy for you!" Clary said, only half-lying. She still wasn't sure what the exact truth was.

Simon chuckled, buying her story. "Don't go crying on me, Fray."

Fray was a little joke between them. In fact, it was their first inside joke as friends. When Clary was little she had trouble remembering her hyphenated last name, not to mention pronouncing it, and it showed when she introduced herself to Simon. She remembered the 'Fair' from 'Fairchild' (she had completely forgotten the Morgenstern half of it, which was kind of ironic when she thought about it), but she had the tendency to leave off certain sounds sometimes, so what really came out of her mouth was 'Fay'. Simon, thinking she just had trouble with her 'r's, mistook it for 'Fray', and he knew her as Clary Fray for almost a year before Jocelyn heard and corrected him. But he'd never quite let that go.

Clary forced a laugh, and she was saved from having to reply by Jonathan's sudden interruption.

"Well, while everyone is in the news sharing mood, I think we have something we'd like to tell you as well," he said, smiling down at Lilith.

"Oh! Daddy, Daddy, can I tell them?! Can I?!" Seraphina exclaimed from her place next to Izzy.

Lilith and Jonathan exchanged a look, and Lilith nodded with a smile. "You can tell them," she said, facing her daughter again.

Seraphina squealed. "I'm gonna have a new baby sister!"

The room broke into excitement once more, and Jocelyn was the first to launch herself at her son. "I'm going to have another grand baby!" she exclaimed, quickly moving onto Lilith. Lilith laughed, happily accepting her mother-in-law's affection.

A congratulating line quickly formed, but Clary stood still at the end of it, biting her lip and trying to ignore the ache she now identified as longing.

She quickly pushed through, wrapping her arms gently around Lilith. "Congratulations," she whispered, and she meant it, she really did, but it hurt her to say the words.

Wasn't it just a few days ago that Simon told her to be patient? That she was only twenty-two? That she had plenty of time to find someone?

"Thank you, Clary," Lilith said, oblivious to the tears now trickling down Clary's cheeks. Clary wanted to congratulate her brother too, and she'd fully planned on it, but she felt her throat closing up at an alarming rate and knew that she didn't have the time.

She quickly pulled away and pushed back through the crowd of family and friends, running up the stairs and into the nearest bathroom where she shut the door a little louder than she'd meant to and began to cry.

She realized now why she was suddenly so upset about her breakup with Sebastian. It wasn't because he didn't find her worth his time and effort—though that was upsetting—and it wasn't because she was missing him.

It was because, at one point in time, she'd truly thought him to be the one she'd spend the rest of her life with.

She'd thought that two and a half years of dating and two different years of friendship was bound to be enough time for them to discuss their futures—to talk about marriage and children and where they would live, even if it were in a frivolous manner. But while she wanted that, wanted it to the point that there wasn't a single moment where she wasn't thinking about it, it was clear that he didn't, and when their relationship ended so did that dream.

She knew she was only twenty-two. She was perfectly aware of that fact. But while everyone around her had been moving on with their lives, she stayed stuck in the same dead-end relationship, taking steps backward rather than forward.

She didn't miss Sebastian. She missed the idea of him.

The bathroom door suddenly swung open, and Jonathan stepped in. She wanted to say something to him, tell him to leave her be, but all she could comprehend was that she should've thought to lock the door.

"Hey, hey, hey," Jonathan said when he saw the state his sister was in, nudging the door back shut with his foot and gathering her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him, clutching the fabric on his back. "What's wrong, Clare?"

She shook her head, unable to get any words out. It was stupid, she knew, to want something so badly that it made you jealous of those closest to you and to miss the idea of something so much that it physically pained you to think about it, but she couldn't help it.

She should be happy for her brother—not wishing that she was the one being congratulated instead of him.

"Clary, talk to me," Jonathan said, concerned. He ran his hand over her hair, and an image of Lilith doing the same thing to Seraphina emerged in her mind, making her cries turn more desperate and choked.

"No," she refused between cries.

"Clary-"

There was a knock on the door, then, without waiting for a response, it opened. Clary guessed it was her mother who probably made the connection from earlier to now and knew exactly why she was so upset.

But she turned out to be wrong, and she buried herself deeper into Jonathan's embrace in an attempt to camouflage herself—though the awful sounds coming from her mouth quite clearly gave her away.

"What's wrong?" a low voice asked as the door shut again.

Clary felt Jon shrug, moving his head to look at who she identified to be Jace.

 _Great._

It would have been hard to tell her brother, and she probably would have with enough coaxing, but there was no way she would be telling this to the guy she was currently dating—to the guy she wanted to _continue_ dating.

"Jonathan!" she heard her mother call from downstairs. "Jonathan, come back down here!"

She tensed as Jonathan sighed and yelled back, "Coming!"

He began to disentangle himself from Clary, and her tears temporarily stopped, her cries turning into unsteady puffs of air.

Jonathan kissed Clary's forehead, looking concernedly into her eyes. "Will you be all right?" he asked.

She jerked her head in an up and down motion that could only be described as a nod, pursing her lips and wiping at her eyes in a futile attempt to clean herself up.

Jonathan sighed again and looked to Jace. "Take care of her for me?"

"Of course," he replied.

Clary turned her gaze to the bathroom tiles, which were suddenly a lot more interesting than before.

Jonathan exited a moment later, leaving her and Jace alone in the small room. She heard Jace moving, and then his black socks appeared in her line of vision. Clary bit her lip and studiously ignored him, counting the number of specks on each individual tile.

"Clary," he said in a gentle tone, and his hand touched her shoulder. It wasn't much, but it was all it took for her to dissolve into tears again.

This time she allowed herself to just be held, to be as small as possible as Jace comfortingly pressed her to him. "Hey," he softly said, "what's wrong?"

She had told herself over and over again that she wouldn't say anything even remotely close to the truth to Jace, even going so far as to try to come up with a believable lie that didn't include, _I'm just so happy for them,_ so this was why she was more surprised than anyone when, "It's stupid," was the first sentence to pop out of her mouth.

"I'll be the judge of that," he replied, making her laugh through her tears.

"You don't want to hear it," she tried, shaking her head.

"But I do," he said, pulling away just enough for her to see his face, blurred from the excess moisture impeding her vision.

"Jace," she slowly said, "I...I'm afraid that if I tell you, I'll scare you off."

Jace chuckled, brushing away some of her tears. "Let's make a deal, then."

"What kind of deal?" she asked, blinking.

"You tell me what it is that's bothering you, and I won't run away."

She chewed on her lip and winced as the cut that was finally healing broke back open. She licked her lips to try to hide the blood and said, "You promise?"

Jace nodded, peeling a wet curl from her cheek. "I promise."

Clary, slightly uncomfortable from his unwavering gaze, asked, "Can you not look at me when I say this? It might make it easier to get out."

Jace lightly laughed and pulled away from her, sitting himself down on the toilet lid while she, shivering from the absence of his warmth, sat on the edge of the bathtub.

"I just…" She sighed, sneaking a quick glance at him despite what she said earlier. "Would it be socially unacceptable for me to tell you about my ex?"

Jace chuckled, gesturing for her to go on. "Not if it helps."

She smiled gratefully at him before looking back down at her lap. "We were friends in high school for two years before he asked me out, and we were really good for the first six months. But then things started to go downhill, and I refused to believe most of the things I found and was told. The night you and I met…" She exhaled. "Earlier, I had told him that if he didn't show up, our relationship was over."

"And he stood you up," Jace said in understanding, and she saw him staring at her from the corner of her eye.

"Yeah," she whispered, then cleared her throat. "But then you came along and made me laugh and smile and genuinely feel good again, and I never paid a second thought to him. But, truthfully, I thought that he was 'the one' for a long time, and even when I no longer loved that man or wanted to put up with his lies, I stuck with him because I thought that maybe one day he'd change and we could have everything I've ever wanted. I thought two and a half years meant something, because it did to me. But it obviously didn't to him."

She took a deep breath, trying to fight off her rapidly constricting chest. Thinking those things was one matter, but saying them out loud and to another person was a completely different one.

Jace stayed quiet as she continued on, her voice wavering slightly. "I wasn't upset about losing him—not once. But today I kept seeing things I never much bothered to look for before, like the looks my brother and his wife kept exchanging, so full of love and happiness and contentment. And then Seraphina jumps into my arms to thank me for my gift, and I find myself wishing that she was mine, that she didn't have to go back to her parents. And then Simon and Izzy, my two best friends, announce that they're getting married, and my brother announces that they're going to have another baby, and it's just so much to take in," she finished at a whisper, wiping her cheeks of her recurrent tears.

She could feel Jace's eyes on her, studying, analyzing, solving. "And you feel like you're never going to have that," he quietly stated, and Clary nodded, unable to get any more words out.

Jace stood from his makeshift chair, going over to the bathtub and cautiously sitting beside her. Clary, craving his touch, leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder like she'd been wanting to do for so long. He wrapped his arm around her and absentmindedly traced small circles, his fingers leaving trails of heat where he touched her.

"I know I'm only twenty-two," she whispered. "But I've dreamed of the life that Jonathan and Lilith and now Simon and Izzy have for years, ever since I was a little girl. And I'm happy for them, I really am, but...I just…I don't..." She trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

"You want it too," Jace murmured, and Clary nodded again, just enough for him to see.

"Have I scared you off, yet?" she unsteadily laughed a few minutes later.

"Honestly?" he said. "I think I'd be running for the hills if you were any other girl."

"Then, why aren't you?"

"I already told you," he said, tucking a strand of hair away so he could cup her face. He looked straight into her eyes, and she felt herself melting before he even said it. "You're different."

She blinked the remainder of her tears away. "Am I terribly selfish for thinking like this on Christmas Day?"

He shook his head, pulling both of them into a standing position, then wrapped her back in the same hold he had on her earlier.

"Clary, no one would blame you for thinking like this," he assured her. "It's the holidays, and you just got out of a big relationship; no one expects you to be completely fine—not even if your relationship wasn't exactly ideal. You're allowed to be upset. You thinking these things just shows that you want a future with something more than what you have now, and that's not wrong at all."

Clary sighed and turned her head to rest more comfortably on his chest. She heard the steady thumping of his heartbeat and felt herself relaxing. Her arms slipped around his waist to rest on his back as if she'd done it a million times before.

She couldn't explain what exactly she was feeling, just that it felt _right_.

"Jace?" she asked as he ran his fingers through her hair, somehow managing to untangle it as he went. "Thank you."

He kissed her head. "Are you ready to go back out?"

"Well, I'll most likely be dragged upstairs by Sera to try out her new paints, so...sure. But only after I get my chocolate from Magnus," she added as an afterthought.

Jace cocked an eyebrow. "Magnus has chocolate?"

"I said 'my chocolate' for a reason, Jace," she said and gave him a look, stepping around him to open the bathroom door.

"But-"

"Magnus!" she shouted, cutting Jace off.

"Yes, biscuit?" came the call from downstairs.

"Come here!"

She made her way to the bottom of the stairs, Jace trailing behind her, as Magnus moved from his previous location in the living room to where Clary was now.

"I was beckoned?" Magnus said, cocking an eyebrow.

She held her hand out. "What kind do you have?"

Magnus grinned, putting his hand in his pocket and pulling out a king-sized Hershey bar. "The only kind I would dare to bring," he replied, plopping the chocolate in her hand. Clary hungrily unwrapped it, breaking off the small squares and eating them one-by-one.

"Thanks, Magnus," she said, her lips unknowingly stained with the chocolate.

Magnus saluted, winked, then spun on his heel and walked back the way he came. Clary stood in the corner so she was out of view, slowly and methodically devouring the chocolate bar.

"Clary," she heard Jace whine from behind her.

She turned, surprised that she forgot he was there, and asked, "Yes?" knowing full well what he wanted but eating another square just to torture him.

He huffed and crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall. She watched his lips as they turned down into a frown, and he stared as she finished the remainder of her chocolate. She crumpled up the empty wrapper in her fist, smirking.

"I'm sorry, did you need something?"

He rolled his eyes and stood up straight, placing a hand on the back of her head and pushing her closer until their lips met.

Just as her eyes were fluttering shut in bliss, he pulled away and smirked, licking his now stained lips.

"Not anymore."

 **Also, as I forgot to add this when I first updated, but I want to recognize the tragic Stoneman Douglas shooting that happened Wednesday. It is a terrible, terrible, terrible thing and I hope and pray that none of you have had to go through something similar—even this particular shooting itself. Prayers to Parkland, and prayers for the seventeen innocents murdered and the countless others that were harmed both physically and mentally. We love you —all of us.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm currently listening to my Shadowhunters Soundtrack playlist on Spotify, and man does that get me motivated! Is anyone else totally excited for March 20th and ecstatic that the release date for S3 was pushed up from the previously thought April 3rd? Because I sure am! I have rewatched S1 and S2 twice now, the last time being these past four days. Plus, I think I may have convinced a friend to start watching it (she's seen the movie but hasn't read the books, so it should be interesting…*smirks*), so that will be fun!**

 **Also, my birthday is this upcoming Saturday! Seventeen here I come! :D**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments.**

 **Clary**

Izzy was bullying her again. Not that Clary wasn't used to it, but it did get slightly annoying when every movement sent her head spinning and each puff of makeup made her more nauseous than the minute before.

It had been six days since she'd last seen Jace, and it had been unexpectedly at Izzy's New Year's party.

Clary was alone there, Izzy having left her to drag Simon to the center of the crowd. She had never been fond of drunken crowds with no sense of space and no real dance floor, and she'd refused to drink even a single drop of alcohol; she knew from experience how wild those parties could get, and she didn't want to take any chances.

If it were up to her, she would have left right then and there. But Izzy had conspicuously warned that if she spotted Clary attempting to leave before midnight, bad things would happen to her. _Very_ bad things.

So, she had stayed.

But, then again, she liked bending the rules.

She didn't know why it had been such a shock to see Jace, Izzy's _brother_ , at _Izzy's_ party—well, more like on the roof of the party—but it had been. So much so that she stumbled in her trek to the wide open pavement and tripped over her own feet. She would have fallen had Jace not noticed and caught her.

She remembered squeaking the obvious question of _What are you doing here?,_ her cheeks aflame. She remembered hoping the ground would swallow her up or, at the very least, provide her a viable excuse to either explain her tripping or to get out of there.

But, surprisingly, Jace hadn't commented on her near fall or her clearly visible flushed skin. He instead answered her with, _Same as you, I think. Looking for an escape._ And, later, as Clary realized where he had been looking before she interrupted him, she read into the unspoken words of, _Plus, it's Sunday night._

She had stood silently with him at the edge of the roof, looking up at the stars and desperately trying to suppress her urge to draw from the universe's perspective: red and gold in the dead of night, their shadows illuminated by the stars and moonfire they were standing beneath.

She was able to suppress that urge until she got home, but she had stayed up all night and the whole next day painting the scene. She had originally wanted to draw it, but the brushes and metallic acrylics—gold for Jace, silver for the light of the night, and copper for herself—called to her as soon as she walked through her door, and that was that.

Naturally, Jace had kissed her at midnight. Clary was too ashamed to admit that that had been her first New Year's kiss—Sebastian had never been with _her_ on New Year's Eve—so she settled for telling him she hadn't been expecting it when he asked why she looked so surprised. Which was partially true; she really _hadn't_ been expecting a New Year's kiss, but that was only because she was accustomed to never receiving one.

He'd bought it, half-lie and all, and they'd resumed their silent stargazing for another hour until they both snuck out the door, snagging a few snacks as they went.

It turned out that Jace hadn't been drinking either, and from what she heard from Izzy, that was out of character for him. Clary didn't dare ask about it, though. Besides, Izzy made it quite clear that Jace wasn't the type to get drunk—only enjoy a couple of drinks every now and then, especially at parties.

Jace had driven her home in his fancy-schmancy car—apparently, Alec hadn't any New Year's plans that required the car and was far less susceptible to Izzy's bullying than she and Jace were—and walked her to her door, kissing her once more before he left.

Jace had called her sometime the next morning while she was waiting for a layer of paint to dry and set up another date in five days' time for Saturday morning. She'd agreed, and was even able to get his plans out of him (visiting as many art museums as they could in a day), before hanging up and going back to her painting.

Clary had received an odd job the next day painting a mural for some business she had already forgotten the name of. Granted, she hadn't bothered to try to remember it as she still wasn't thrilled about the fact that they hired her in the middle of the winter to paint a mural _outside_ of their building. It had paid well, of course, and she was quite sure they threw in a couple hundred extra for the days she had to spend out there, but now it seemed that her all-nighter and time in the freezing temperatures was finally catching up to her.

Which brought her back to where she was now.

By some means, Izzy had figured out about Clary's date and was bullying her into yet another round of dress up. Clary had tuned out her friend's incessant chatter, longing for the warmth of her bed that she'd left no more than two hours ago—Izzy keyed into Clary's apartment that morning and was horrified to see that she was still sleeping an hour and a half before Jace was to pick her up.

 _An hour and a half._

She liked to think she would have at least thrown a pillow at Izzy had she not been feeling so...well, shitty. But she had sat obediently in the chair, allowing Izzy to do what she pleased with her, which meant everything Clary hated. The only part of the makeover process that she did end up liking was the eyeshadow, and that was because she got to close her eyes during it.

"I know it's absolutely freezing out there, so I took the liberty of giving you jeans and a sweater instead of a dress," Izzy said, temporarily breaking Clary from her stupor. "I even swapped the heels for boots. You can thank me later."

The one thing Izzy hadn't mentioned, Clary thought as she put on the assigned outfit in the bathroom, was that the jeans were skinny jeans. Her face turned a shade lighter than before as the denim pressed uncomfortably into her navel. And that was without buttoning it.

The loose, wool sweater was heavy—too heavy for Clary's liking. She probably would have been thankful for it under different circumstances, as it was bound to keep her warm despite the arctic temperatures outside, but she was already overwhelmingly hot from the fever she had yet to confirm.

Clary was sick, so very sick, and she hardly had any strength left in her by the time she was done dressing—and she _still_ hadn't buttoned her jeans. She had no idea how she was going to walk through museums all day. She wasn't sure if she _could_.

And, just like that, she added another thing to her list that being sick had ruined.

"Clary?" Izzy called from outside the door to get her attention. "Simon called and I have to run, but call me later and let me know how it went, okay?!"

The only reason Izzy had let her dress in the bathroom was because of the needing to use the restroom excuse Clary had given her. "Drive safe!" she told Izzy, knowing how slick the streets were due to the snow they'd gotten a couple of days ago.

Ah, yes—the snow. Clary had forgotten to mention that she had _painted_ in the midst of that particular snow.

She made a mental note to never accept a job from that company again; they hadn't offered her any kind of hot drink or a place to stay other than Izzy's car (that she had borrowed) whilst she waited for the worst of the snow to pass. _Closed doors_ , they had said. _Employees only._

She had half a mind to quit painting the mural right then and there. She didn't need the money; she had done quite well for herself and easily would have been able to quit the job without missing that month's rent. But the thought of using the extra money to take a much-needed vacation, preferably with her family and/or Izzy and Simon, kept her from doing so. Not to say that she didn't still think about it while she was shivering and praying for Izzy's car to heat up faster.

Because she did. A lot.

"I'll text you when I get home!" Izzy promised, and Clary heard the opening and shutting of her apartment door about ten seconds later. She sighed in relief and rested her head against the mirror, closing her eyes. She let herself have a few moments of bliss before she forced herself to pull her shoulders back, and then she was suddenly looking into the glass surface in front of her.

 _You've_ got _to be kidding me._

She knew Izzy was pretty unobservant of anything but the makeup during makeovers, but she imagined that this had to be a new record for the girl. The purple bags underneath her eyes and the unnatural paleness of her skin stuck out like a sore thumb, even with the makeup—Clary didn't want to know what she looked like without it.

She moved quickly, pulling out different tints of foundation and concealer and strategically re-covering her face. By the time she was done, it looked a little better. It was a lot less natural than the look Izzy had given her, but it wasn't _un_ natural by any means.

She just hoped Jace wouldn't ask about it.

She looked at the time and saw that the man in question was supposed to be there in less than ten minutes. She sighed, washed her hands free of the makeup that had managed to get on her, and put everything back away before gathering the courage to button and zip her jeans. She didn't allow herself to listen to that little voice telling her not to button it and to hide the evidence with her sweater for the rest of the day.

But maybe that little voice was coming directly from her stomach because as soon as she buttoned and zipped, her stomach flopped once more.

She wished she had just listened to the voice while she was hunched over the toilet—her sweater was long enough to cover the top of her jeans, after all.

Not used to wearing her hair down, Clary forgot what it being loose meant. She was luckily able to gather it all before it entered the path her insides were taking to the water below.

Clary flushed the toilet when she was done and shakily stood, going back to the sink and grabbing her toothbrush. She brushed her teeth several times trying to get rid of the awful taste, then resorted to mouthwash when it still hadn't gone away.

 _No kissing today, then._

She wanted to bang her head into the wall when she saw her face was noticeably pale again, even with the extra makeup she'd added, but she was afraid a headache would form at the action. Her fever, body aches, dizziness, upset stomach, and exhaustion were too much to handle as it was.

She scowled and spit the mouthwash out, the icy mint overtaking the rotten, coppery taste on her tongue. She was just pulling a drawer open to grab the thermometer and see just how sick she really was when she heard another knock. But this one wasn't coming from her bathroom door, and Izzy never knocked, so that meant it could only be Jace.

A string of expletives came from her mouth—a long line that even her brother would have been impressed by—and attempted to look as normal as possible as she answered the door.

"Hey," she greeted with a smile she hoped didn't look too forced.

Jace widely grinned, not seeing through her facade. "Why hello, Ms. Fairchild."

 _Finally. One thing that went right for me today._

Clary spun around to grab her purse before he could study her more intently, but she regretted it as soon as she did. She stumbled and reached for the back of a chair as her head spun and her knees gave out from underneath her. A pair of hands quickly attached to her hips, and Clary grimaced as she said, "Sorry. My feet got in the way."

Jace slowly turned her as if knowing the spinning was what had made her half-collapse, and he narrowed his eyes. She smiled at him again in the hopes that it would throw him off, but his scrutinizing gaze faded into concern a moment later and she knew she had been caught.

 _I stand corrected._

"How long have you been sick?" Jace asked accusingly, taking his hands off her once he was assured she wasn't going to fall to the floor.

"I'm not sick," Clary argued, crossing her arms and subtly leaning on the chair beside her. It wasn't that she couldn't hold herself up, but doing so without any help took more energy than it should have.

Jace rolled his eyes and shut the open door with a simple nudge of his foot. He didn't say anything, only waited. Clary sighed, running a tired hand down her face. "Since yesterday," she mumbled, giving in.

He stepped forward and laid a cool hand on her forehead. Clary let out a small noise at the relief and closed her eyes, leaning into his hand. Jace sighed and ran his hand along her cheek before taking it back.

"Go get dressed into whatever you were wearing before," he told her. "I'm calling this off."

"I'm fine!" Clary insisted, disappointment filling her at the idea of not getting to spend her Saturday with him. "I promise!"

Jace rolled his eyes. "Clary, you are not fine. There's no way I'm letting you outside like this."

She huffed the best she could. "Since when were you the boss of me? I'm a big girl; I can make my own decisions."

"I've been the boss of you ever since your decisions consisted of going out in freezing temperatures and walking the entire day while running a God knows what fever," Jace said sternly. "I'm calling the date off, Clary, and you're not going to convince me otherwise. Now, go get dressed. You'll spend the rest of the day resting."

She deflated and set her purse back down, knowing there was no sense in arguing with Jace any longer. "Fine," Clary said in submission and went to her bedroom to gratefully pick up her shorts and old T-shirt from where they laid on the ground.

She heard the shutting of a door and sighed, closing her eyes and resting her head against the wall.

He hadn't even said goodbye.

Clary went to the bathroom to wash off her makeup, moving at an extra slow pace due to exhaustion finally claiming her mind. She made an effort to comb through her hair before giving up and pulling it into an unceremonious knot at the back of her head.

As she trekked back to her room she attempted to clean some of it up—mostly the articles of clothing Izzy had discarded as she'd gone through her wardrobe—but she could only clean for five minutes before her body refused to supply her any more energy. Clary once again thought about getting the thermometer, but it seemed so far away now that she didn't spare a second thought to it.

Clary took one look at her bed and decided the only thing she wanted from it was a blanket and perhaps a soft pillow. She went into the living room, left the blanket and pillow she had gathered on the opposite side of the couch, and carefully plopped herself on the cushions.

She turned the television on and found a chick flick to watch as a distraction from the turning of her stomach—though, it didn't feel as if she were going to throw up again. It was mostly just uncomfortable, as the ball her frame was currently curled into muted the pain for now.

She closed her eyes, felt burning from behind them, and opened them again to let the cool air soothe her. She groaned and pulled her knees in tighter to her chest. She startled at the opening of her door, lifting her head just enough to spy Jace walking through, his jeans and long-sleeve swapped for sweatpants and a sweatshirt. It was the first time she'd seen him in weekend clothes, but he still looked handsome as ever. Not that it surprised her at this point.

"I brought soup and movies," he said as he shut her door and took his shoes off.

She frowned. "How did you get in?"

He shrugged. "I borrowed your keys and guessed which one to use. You know, for living alone and not having a car, you have a lot of keys."

"There are only five," she pointed out, deciding not to discuss the topic of him taking her keys in the first place.

"What are they for, anyway?" Jace asked as he moved to put a container in her fridge; Clary assumed that was the soup he mentioned.

"One for my apartment, obviously, one for my studio, one for Simon and Izzy's apartment, one for Jonathan and Lilith's penthouse, and one for my mother and Luke's house," she answered with a yawn, her words slurring together ever so slightly.

"How long have Izzy and Rat face been living together?" Jace asked accusingly.

Clary gave as close to a groan as she could, though she bet Jace couldn't hear it from his place in the kitchen. "Seriously? You're putting me in the middle of this again? And don't call him that," she snapped.

Jace chuckled, ignoring her last statement. "In my defense, you are the only intercessor."

"So dreams really _can_ come true," she said dryly, shutting her eyes.

He laughed again and then he was sitting next to her. "Good to see you're still kicking, red." She grumbled an incoherent response. "Have you taken any medicine, yet?"

Clary peeled her eyes open and slowly shook her head. "No, and I probably wouldn't be able to keep it down if I did."

"When did you last eat?" Jace asked, laying a hand on her forehead again.

"Last night," she said reluctantly. "But it didn't exactly agree with me."

Jace sighed and stood back up. "Where's your thermometer?"

"The bathroom," she answered, her eyes falling shut again. "Second door to the left, across from my bedroom."

It felt like only a few moments had passed when Clary felt the light touch of the thermometer run across her forehead. She opened her eyes at the feel of lips where the thermometer had been, and the corners of her mouth twitched upward.

"You're at 100.2," Jace told her as he set the thermometer to the side. "You really should be taking medicine."

"I'll be better without it. I've learned that I have a sensitive stomach the hard way over the years, so I'd rather not take it unless I absolutely have to," Clary said, trying not to think about last night's results of taking what little medicine she had. She grimaced. "Medicine isn't exactly my friend."

Jace frowned. "Just how many times have you been sick for you to have learned that?"

She rubbed her eyes and shook her head slowly in an attempt not to make herself dizzy. "Who knows," she said flatly. "I've gotten by the past couple of years with nothing more than a cold or a cough, but apparently standing outside for days on end does this to a person."

She wasn't going to mention the all-nighter. If she did, he'd ask why she stayed up for that absurd amount of time, and that painting was stored away in her studio for a reason.

Jace sat next to her again, studying her with narrowed eyes. "Why were you out in the snow?"

"Work," she grumbled unenthusiastically. "Some company hired me to paint a mural on the side of their building and kept me out of their doors while I did so."

His jaw clenched. "It was _freezing_ -"

"Excellent observation," Clary interrupted languidly, not feeling like making the topic into a big ordeal. She was already angry—she didn't need Jace to be too. "What movies did you bring?" she asked for a change of topic.

"Uh-uh-uh," Jace tutted disapprovingly and tapped her nose. "The movies are for _after_ you've gotten some rest."

She tried to roll her eyes, but from the way Jace was holding back an amused grin she doubted she did a very good job of it. "Then why did you tell me you brought movies?"

Jace shrugged. "Saying I only brought soup seemed too little, so I decided to include movies on that statement to make myself feel better."

"You didn't have to bring anything," she mumbled, putting her elbow on the arm of the couch and resting her cheek on her fist. "You didn't have to come back, either."

Jace smiled softly, reaching forward to brush his thumb along her cheek. "Maybe not. But I did."

Despite feeling the lowest she had in years, a light blush rose to her cheeks. She was sure it looked downright scary, the pink against the sickly white skin, but Jace didn't seem to think so. At least, not that she could tell.

"Well," Clary said quietly, "thank you for coming.

"No one should be alone when they're sick," Jace offered, and then said, "But you really should get some rest."

"Yeah, I know," she murmured, "But I tried, and it didn't work."

Jace pinched his brows together. "What do you mean?"

"I just…" Clary sighed and rubbed her eyes again. "My eyes burn, and everything hurts, and I can't get relaxed enough to fall asleep."

Jace's concern turned into pensiveness. "Do these seats recline?"

"Um...yeah?" Clary confirmed, not sure why that was important. "Just pull the handle on the side."

Jace slid to the end of the couch and did exactly that, rolling his shoulders in approval. He set the blanket and pillow Clary had put there aside, must knowing that she didn't want them for a reason. He surprised her when he looked back with a toothy grin and patted his lap.

"Come on over, dear."

Her heart swelled at the name but her face didn't show it; instead, a confused frown took over. "What?" she asked dumbly.

He chuckled. "Lay down. You said you couldn't relax, so I'm going to help with that."

"By doing...what, exactly?"

He shrugged and stretched. "Guess you'll have to wait and see."

Clary would have huffed if her mind and body hadn't been so disjointed. And maybe that was the reason why she gave in to his demand, slowly moving to lay her head in his lap. She wrapped her arms around her stomach just before it painfully twisted; she winced and caved in on herself, yanking her knees up as far as they could go. She groaned, this time audibly.

"Easy," Jace murmured in a softer voice than she thought possible. Her stomach did another flip, but this time it wasn't from her illness.

Clary was about to comment on the fact that laying on his lap wasn't magically going to help her relax when two of his fingers pressed against the back of her skull and ran down the curve of her neck. She let out a whimper at the feel of the tight muscles she'd felt the past couple of days but hadn't paid attention to and let her eyes flutter shut. She unknowingly tilted her head to give Jace more room to work, and he responded accordingly.

His fingers slowly worked out most the knots on her neck and he started to widen his coverage. But when Clary began to flinch at every knot he attempted to work, he sighed and told her, "When you feel like you can sit up, I'll work on your shoulders. Until then, I'm not going to touch them."

Clary sighed but agreed, mumbling her thanks. Jace's fingers moved to her head again and undid the knot her hair was tied in.

"Jace-"

She cut herself off with a small noise of content when his fingers gently tugged their way through her hair. She welcomed the touch, leaning further into his hand. Clary's eyes closed again, and she shifted her head to lay more comfortably on his lap.

She couldn't remember the last time someone had combed their fingers through her hair. It had to have been years and years ago, back when she was still a little girl and her mother sang her to sleep each night. She'd always assumed it was her mother's voice that had calmed her and made her succumb to the dream world, but she wondered if she should rethink that assumption—after all, she had never felt more calm than she did now, and Jace was _not_ singing.

She felt herself relaxing, her mind slipping away from her. Slowly, the effects of the illness on her body faded until she could feel nothing, and she fell asleep, unfairly praying that Jace would never leave.

* * *

It wasn't the sound of the tv that woke her, nor was it Jace's gentle shifting; it wasn't her stomach that somehow felt worse than before or her raging headache that she'd hoped wouldn't come; it was rather the cold, her body breaking into goosebumps and violent shivers.

A broken sound of pain came from her lips, and she opened her eyes.

"Hey," Jace said softly, and he rubbed her arm. She didn't respond, instead curling into an even tighter ball than what she'd fallen asleep in. It was almost painful. Almost. "Are you cold?" he asked concernedly.

This time she did answer. "Yes."

He sighed and laid his hand on her forehead again. What had brought her relief earlier now made her flinch away, his hand cold and unwanted.

"What time is it?" she whispered.

"It's about ten o'clock. You were out for a couple of hours," he answered.

She braced herself, gritting her near-chattering teeth together and sitting up. Jace helped, his hands resting on her back and hip. She felt a rush of vertigo, then, with no warning for Jace, she was flying up and to the bathroom. She could hear him following her but couldn't find it in herself to care as she collapsed in front of the toilet.

She didn't know how her stomach materialized something to throw up when she hadn't eaten in a day, but she was in no mood to contemplate the phenomenon.

Fingers brushed the back of her neck as they pulled her hair away from the danger-zone, and a gentle hand was placed on her spine. The hand ran in slow, absent minded circles, comforting her through her gags.

Once Clary was finished, she reached up with a shaking hand to flush the toilet. Jace beat her to it, his hand removing itself from her back and pushing the handle down. She debated whether it was sanitary—or even appropriate—to rest her head on the toilet seat. She doubted it. That wasn't to say she wasn't still tempted.

"Why don't you lay in bed, Clary? It'll be warmer," Jace murmured close to her ear. If she wasn't already racked with shivers, she would have been at the feel of his hot breath on her skin.

"But you're here," Clary reasoned. _And I don't want you to leave._

"And I'll still be here when you wake up," Jace said stubbornly.

Clary sighed and fell back from the toilet, letting the wall support her. She rested her head on her knees and said, very quiet, "I'm sorry for ruining your Saturday."

Jace rolled his eyes. "First of all, you did not ruin my Saturday. Second, you say it like it was your fault."

"And it's not?" Clary rhetorically asked and closed her eyes.

Sensing that the question was not meant to be answered, Jace brushed a hand over her hair and whispered, "To bed, Clary."

She mumbled an annoyed response that sounded a lot like _I'm twenty-two, Jace._ Whether he decoded it or not, she was unsure; she supposed it didn't matter. "I at least want to brush my teeth."

He chuckled. "Fine. I can allow that." With that, he squatted next to her and wrapped an arm around her waist, helping her up. She scrambled for his free hand for extra stability as she swayed on her feet. "Have you been drinking any type of liquid at all?" Jace asked when he saw this. Clary made a face that looked almost apologetic and gave him a small smile.

"Whoops?"

She could tell he wanted to roll his eyes again, but, surprisingly, he held back. "I'll go get you some water to drink before you go to sleep." Jace slowly let go of her, making sure she was steady. "You okay?"

"If by 'okay' you mean besides the fact that I just hurled in front of the guy I'm dating, then sure. I'm okay," Clary said smartly. Jace didn't hold back the amused roll of his eyes this time, but he did kiss her head before he went out the door. "Wait!" she stopped him.

He turned, checking her over to see if she had fallen yet—at least, she assumed that's what he was doing. "Yes...?"

Clary ground her teeth together. "Izzy said she'd text me when she got home, but I've been a bit...distracted, and I haven't exactly gotten around to checking my phone. Could you maybe...I mean, if you-"

He shook his head. "What is it with you and beating around the bush?" When she blushed, he told her, "Don't worry. Izzy texted me while you were sleeping and asked how the date was going. She's home safe."

Clary opened her mouth to ask what he told Izzy, but then she closed it, not knowing if she wanted to know. She turned back to the sink as Jace finally left and rinsed with mouthwash for the second time that day, sticking her tongue out in disgust at the putrid tastes leaking from her mouth. She took a deep breath to relieve herself of her almost automatic gag reflex and stalked back in her room, not bothering to see if Jace had found his way around her kitchen. The cups weren't too hard to find, she didn't think.

Clary had planned to wait for Jace before she crawled into bed, but the mound of pillows and blankets looked so appealing that she couldn't _not_ give in to the temptation.

She sighed as she sank into the mattress and let herself enjoy it for a few minutes before forcing herself to sit up—she could hear Jace coming closer and didn't want him to help her up like some damsel in distress. But then his steps came to a complete stop and she strained to hear anything but silence.

She was beginning to wonder if she hadn't heard Jace at all and it was just her ears playing tricks on her when he walked in.

"Drink up."

He extended the water to her, and Clary took it with quick succession. She carefully drank a few sips to see if it would settle, but she could hardly hold back from gulping it down; she hadn't realized how thirsty she was until the liquid touched her lips.

Jace sat beside her and gently touched her spine, running his fingers up and down in small brushes. The slow movements made her drink a little slower, probably making her stomach more happy than it had been when she was practically dumping the water into it.

"Thank you," Clary said when she was finished, setting the glass on the table next to her.

"Now go to sleep," Jace ordered and Clary couldn't help but smile at his tone.

"Sir, yes sir," she replied. A faint ringing could be heard from the other room, causing Jace to sigh. "That sounds like mine," Clary said faintly.

"Do you want me to answer it?"

"It's probably just Izzy or Simon checking in. You don't have to."

Jace shrugged and got off the bed. "Izzy and Rat face I can handle."

"I thought I told you not to call him that," Clary mumbled.

Jace snickered as he walked to the door. "And I thought I made it obvious I didn't care."

She rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand at him. He left then, but not without giving her his renowned smirk.

Clary sank down in her blankets and pulled them over her shoulders, hoping the heat would sink into her skin and relieve her of her still constant shivers. She waited a few minutes for it to work, and while she waited she listened to the faint murmurs of Jace's voice leaking in from wherever he was.

She found herself a bit curious as to who called; if it was Simon she didn't think Jace would be on the phone for too long, and the same went for Izzy but for different reasons. Clary could be wrong, of course. In fact, that was a very probable answer; the odd balance between her head being filled with rocks for one minute then lighter than air the next threw off her sense of time.

She closed her eyes after a while and tucked the blankets tighter around her. She focused her entire being on letting sleep take her under again. She was rewarded with the slow fading of Jace's voice, replaced by the sound of rushing blood.

Her body slowly began to relax, but she could not fall asleep due to her shivers and unnatural coldness. She tried convincing herself that she was not cold, that she was just fine, but she couldn't gather up enough conviction for it to work; mind over matter only worked if one had enough energy to trick themselves with.

Clary had been expecting the covers to at least help a little, expected she'd at least feel _some_ heat, but so far nothing had happened. She'd expected her body to respond as it should have with four blankets wrapped around it to encase her body heat—she knew she still ran a fever, so there had to be heat emanating from her.

What she _didn't_ expect out of all of that was to be yanked from her limbo and encircled into a warm lump of unfamiliar fabric. Clary opened her eyes with a start, meeting a darkness that matched the inside of her eyelids. She blinked to make sure her eyes were really open—there wasn't any difference between the blackness from before and the blackness now—and felt her heavy eyelids shutting again.

"Jace?" she slurred, already half-gone.

"You're shivering. I thought I'd help," he replied, very much awake. It made her jealous to hear him so healthy and well as she sat there shivering while her body was over one-hundred degrees and wondering what her stomach would find to get rid of next. "Is this okay?"

Clary blinked a few times, trying to figure out what he was asking. _Is what okay?_ But then his arm that she hadn't known was there shifted around her waist, and she extended a hand to lay on the fabric she was pressed up against—the fabric of which she now identified to be Jace's hoodie—and knew what he meant.

She found herself curling into his side, attempting to gather as much of his warmth as she could. It seemed that his warmth was the only warmth worth grabbing, as this was the first normal reaction her body had given so far today when surrounded by a major source of heat.

"Yeah," she whispered, hoping he'd notice her cease of shivers and know not to let her go. "Yeah, this is okay."

He tightened his grip on her, and right before she closed her eyes again, she felt a light touch of lips to her temple and smiled.

 **I honestly don't know where the sick-fic came from, but it came and smacked me in the face and I found I really didn't mind it. So...I think I will continue this into the next chapter because I love writing it. Plus, it gives me an idea on how to slip a few plot details in before it starts building up to where it's noticeable. Thank you to all who reviewed, and for those of you worried, the fluff will continue for a few more chapters!;)**

 **Speaking of reviews, thank you to all of you who did and do so! And, also, a big thank you to those of you that read, follow, and favorite! Everything motivates me to keep writing for you guys! To have 57 reviews for only four chapters makes me giddy!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Is it just me, or has March been so incredibly busy for anyone else as well? I'm posting this and I'm not even at home! In fact, when I do finally go home, I'll only be there for a day and a half before I'm gone again for the next three days! And that's not even including the beginning of the month where I was gone for another two days for a road trip, and then there was also my birthday weekend (you get the point.)!**

 **AHHHH!**

 **In other words, I'm sorry it took so long to get this out. I sincerely apologize. But I hope you enjoy the Clace (you better, because I'm afraid it won't be as easy to find after this)!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments.**

 **Clary**

"You should really go to a doctor, baby," said Jocelyn as she walked around Clary's apartment, cleaning anything and everything she could find.

"Mom, you say that every time I get sick," Clary groaned from her place on the couch—she hadn't moved much in the past few days.

"Yes, but now I really mean it."

"As if you didn't before," Clary mumbled to herself. Then, louder, she said, "You know they're just going to give me some medicine I'll throw up anyway. I don't see the point."

Jocelyn came around to stand in front of Clary and laid a hand on her forehead. "The point is that you're still running a one-hundred degree fever after the third day of being sick."

Clary rolled her eyes. "I'm feeling better than the first day," she tried. "I've only thrown up twice since then."

"I'd rather you not be throwing up at all," Jocelyn said with a stern but concerned look. "If your fever hasn't broken by tomorrow, you're going to the doctor."

"Mom-"

"No exceptions," she interrupted and crossed her arms.

Clary sighed. It was times like these when she was reminded of where her stubbornness came from. "Fine."

Her mother nodded just as a series of knocks was heard from the door. Jocelyn stood and answered it, and Simon and Izzy quickly flooded in.

"How are you doing, babe?" Izzy asked as she hung her coat up.

Izzy had legitimately felt bad when she figured out Clary was sick and apologized for hours on end. She'd come to the apartment Saturday evening to gossip and squeeze details out of Clary only to see Jace and said girl on the couch watching a movie, a trash can and half-empty bowl of soup next to them.

It turned out that Jace hadn't told Izzy she was sick earlier that day, instead telling her that the date was going good but that he'd appreciate it if she left the both of them alone. So, she had. Until she intruded on Clary's sick day.

Clary even felt slightly guilty by the end of Isabelle's rant; according to Izzy, Clary should have told her she was sick even if she already had her makeup on and was ready to go. She (apparently) would have stayed with Clary for the day and called Jace to alert him that the date was cancelled by no means related to him.

Clary was glad she didn't tell Izzy now. She internally winced at the idea of an overly hyper Izzy bouncing around the apartment and babbling about everything and nothing while attempting to cook a soup that would no doubt leave Clary with food-poisoning. She shuddered.

Yes, Clary was _very_ glad she didn't tell Izzy.

But, ever since that night, Clary had had a rotation of people coming to check up on her, including Izzy, Simon, Jonathan, Luke, and her mother. Jace hadn't come since that first day, but he had been texting as often as possible. Clary longed for his silent yet comforting presence where she could rest and watch tv in peace; the price of that peace was playful banter and minimal conversation, of course, but it was a rarher small price to pay for the quiet she wasn't receiving now.

Oh, how she wished Izzy had never found out she was sick.

"No better?" Simon guessed, grimacing when he saw Clary was still in the same spot as the night before.

"I swear she's going to be the death of me," Clary quietly groaned. Izzy giggled and took a seat on the coffee table next to Simon, eyeing Jocelyn's nonstop movement.

"She's just worried," Izzy offered.

"I know, but that doesn't make it any easier to bear." She paused. "Why are you guys here, anyway?"

Simon grinned. "Well, we wanted to check up on you first and foremost, but Izzy had something to ask you if you were feeling better."

Clary frowned and struggled to sit up; her muscles shook with the effort, weak and unused. Her two friends helped her the rest of the way up, only letting go when she assured them she was comfortable. "What is it?"

Simon gave Izzy a warning glance, and Izzy, to her credit, did look slightly hesitant before blurting, "Will you be my maid of honor?"

Clary blinked, then slowly broke out into a smile. "Of course I will! What kind of question is that?!"

Izzy broke into a larger grin, practically vibrating with excitement. Simon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"The whole point of this was to wait until you were better so you could hug and squeal and do the whole routine while I wasn't around," Simon said, sounding a bit annoyed. "Now I have to deal with this," he explained as he gestured to Izzy's elated bouncing, "at home."

"I've waited long enough!" Izzy argued, crossing her arms and tapping her foot.

"It's been a day, Isabelle," Simon said, not hiding his exasperation. He gave his fiancée a disbelieving look from the corner of his eyes, and Clary couldn't help but snigger. "A _day_."

"That's twenty-four hours!" Izzy exclaimed. "That has to be a new record for me!"

"Actually," Clary interrupted, "your current record is 39 hours and 22 minutes."

Izzy frowned. Instead of asking the obvious questions of _You keep track?_ or _When are you talking about?_ , she asked, "I lasted that long?"

Simon rolled his eyes; he'd probably run through the same thought process Clary had. "Look, we'll talk to you about everything when you're better. The last thing you need right now is stress."

"But-" Izzy protested, only to be silenced by a glaring Simon. "Fine," she relented, holding up her hands in surrender. "Fine."

He nodded, satisfied. "Now that we've checked on her and you've popped the question, let's give her some space." Simon bent and encased Clary in a soft hug, speaking so only she could hear. "Get better, okay? And try not to pull an all-nighter then accept a stupid job from stupid people again."

Yes, Clary had told Simon about the all-night painting on New Years. She showed him it, too. How could she have not? He was her best friend—they told each other everything. Except, of course, that Simon was going to propose to Izzy. But, in his defense, Clary was a terrible liar and probably would have let his plans slip.

Clary tiredly wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "No promises."

Simon briefly laughed as he pulled back and left room for Izzy to take over. "Get better so we can get started on the wedding plans!" Izzy whisper-shouted in Clary's ear.

"I'll try," Clary smiled. Izzy let go quickly, letting her friend fall back into the couch. "I'll talk to you soon," she promised.

"Take these to go, you guys!" Jocelyn exclaimed from the kitchen. As Izzy went to get whatever Clary's mother had whipped up, Simon leaned forward and pecked her cheek.

"Have you heard from Jace?"

"We've been texting." He rose a questioning brow. "Everything is fine between us, if that's what you're asking," Clary added with a small, tired smile. "He's just been busy with work."

Simon nodded firmly. "Has Sebastian called?"

She shook her head. "Not even a text."

"Good."

Clary absently nodded, outwardly agreeing with him. But inwardly, she wished Sebastian _would_ call. She still cared about him, even if he no longer cared for her. She wanted to talk to him, wanted to make sure he was okay, wanted to know that there hadn't been signs she'd missed.

It wasn't that she wasn't happy with Jace, because she was. Very much so. But before she could truly move on, she needed closure, and that was something she didn't have.

"We'll see you later, okay? Let us know if you need someone to be here when your mom leaves," Simon said, mistaking her lack of comment for exhaustion. Not to say she wasn't. Exhausted, that was.

"I'll be fine," Clary assured him. "Now, get back to work so you can afford the honeymoon."

Simon crookedly grinned and fixed his glasses before standing up straight and walking to the door with Izzy. "Bye, Clary! Bye, Jocelyn!" they both called as they walked out.

"Do you want some soup?" Jocelyn asked, still in the kitchen.

"Not right now," Clary answered.

"Well, I have to get back to work in ten minutes. Can't I just get you some now and then you can eat it later?"

"Mom, I'm not hungry and I really don't want to smell it now. If I want some later then I'll just get it myself. Don't worry about it," Clary said, annoyed with her mind's refusal to get off the topic of Sebastian. It leaked into her voice, and she knew her mother noticed.

She could hear Jocelyn walking back to the living room where she looked at Clary for only a minute before sitting next to her and wrapping her into a hug. "I'm sorry if I'm being a little overbearing. I just worry about you."

Clary sighed into her mother's shoulder. "No, I'm sorry. You're my mom—you're supposed to worry, that's what you do. I just…" She paused. "Can I tell you something?"

"You can tell me anything, you know that," Jocelyn answered and ran her hand over Clary's unbrushed hair.

"I wish Sebastian would call."

Jocelyn froze for a moment, then pulled away just enough to look Clary concernedly in the eye. "Did something happen with Jace?"

"No, no, nothing happened with Jace. He's great," Clary hurriedly corrected. "But Sebastian was my first love, Mom. I still care about him, and while our relationship didn't end with a huge fight or anything, it was the last thing we did. I just wish he'd call so we could both have some closure. Is that totally crazy?"

Jocelyn sadly smiled and tucked a curl behind Clary's ear. "I understand better than you think."

"Right," said Clary bitterly. "Dad."

Jocelyn sighed. "He was my first love too, Clary. And I wish more than anything that we had ended on better terms. You have no idea how much it hurt me— _still_ hurts me—to see how quickly he turned on us all, especially you. But, on the flip side, that wasn't the same man I'd fallen in love with."

Clary paused, trying to decipher the message her mother was trying to tell her. She couldn't. "What are you trying to say?"

"That sometimes, Clary," she said, brushing her cheek, "you can't help the way someone leaves your life. You have to do what's best for you. And if that's talking to Sebastian, then I support that. But you're like me—you put others before yourself. So before you go and actively seek Sebastian out, you need to think about what you're really wanting."

Clary smiled, half knowingly and half contemplative. "You already know what I want, don't you? You know what I don't."

Jocelyn softly smiled. "I think you're wanting closure with a man that doesn't exist anymore. But if you think that talking with the shell of the man you love will still get you that closure you need, then I want you to know that there's nothing wrong with you for wanting that. Understand?"

Clary wrapped her mother in another hug, not missing the way Jocelyn said 'love' instead of 'loved' without hesitation or a judging gaze. Maybe she really did understand what Clary was going through.

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too. So, so much. And if you truly don't know what to do about Sebastian," Jocelyn said, rubbing Clary's back, "you could always talk to Jace about it, see what he thinks. Not that I'm saying you should do whatever he says," she hurriedly corrected. "I just think it'd be good to talk to him about it so he knows where you're at in your relationship."

Clary nodded, seeing her point. "When I decide what to do, I'll talk to him."

"That's all I was looking for," Jocelyn said. She kissed her head, and Clary jumped at an unexpected ringing. "Do you want me to answer it?"

"Who is it?" Clary questioned as her mother got up to get the cellphone.

Jocelyn looked at the vibrating screen and told her, "It's Jace," with a teasing smile and twinkle in her eye.

Clary rolled her eyes and held out her hand. "You're just as bad as Izzy, I swear." Jocelyn chuckled as she handed the phone over. "Hello?" Clary said despite knowing who was on the other end.

"Hey, red. How ya doin'?"

Clary couldn't help but smile. "I'm hanging in there. My mom's here right now and Simon and Izzy were here, like, five minutes ago."

"You're not alone, then?"

"I will be soon, but it'll be okay—Mom has to get back to work."

"You sure you're going to be fine alone? A little birdie told me you've barely moved in the past two days, and God forbid you actually have to do so," he said with a slight bit of sarcasm, and Clary rolled her eyes. _Of course Izzy told him._

"I'm fine, Jace. If my fever doesn't break by tomorrow, Mom is dragging me to a doctor," Clary divulged.

"As she should," he agreed.

Clary sighed. "Anyways, why'd you call? What do you need?"

"I called to check on you, which I guess I technically have. But, seriously, will you be all right alone?" he asked, the sarcasm replaced with concern.

"Don't worry about me," Clary said. "It's nothing I can't handle."

She could practically hear his eye roll. "I have the afternoon off—I'll just come over. I'm close to your apartment, anyway."

"Jace, you don't-" Clary tried to protest, but she was cut off by his already made-up mind.

"I'm literally three minutes away, Clary. I'm coming whether you like it or not."

She sighed but was secretly pleased with his refusal to listen to her protests. "Fine."

"I'll see you soon," he said before hanging up.

As soon as Clary lowered the phone, Jocelyn pounced. "So? What did he call about?"

"He's going to come over for the afternoon. I don't think he likes the idea of me being alone," Clary truthfully said, too tired to make up lies.

Jocelyn sat beside her and prompted her to lay down, probably seeing the exhaustion that came from conversing with four people in the matter of twenty minutes. Jocelyn petted her hair, fixing the pillow that had been sitting in the same spot with Clary for two and a half days and tossed the blanket over her. Clary fought off the inevitable sleep—at least until Jace got there.

"I admit, it does make me feel better knowing you won't be here alone," her mother said.

"I would have been fine," Clary insisted.

"Darling, you have to have help _sitting up_ ," she pointed out. "And it's not like you can just _not_ eat or drink anything."

Clary closed her eyes for a minute. "I would have been fine."

Jocelyn rolled her eyes. "It still makes me feel better. Now, do you want anything done before Jace gets here?"

She opened her eyes. "If you mean cleaning, you've already done that. In fact, I think you scared off every single speck of dust in this house."

Jocelyn smiled amusedly. "I actually meant cleaning _you_ up. Nothing drastic, of course, but maybe I could brush your hair or give you a change of clothes."

"Both of those things require me to move," Clary said distastefully. "Besides, you just brushed my hair this morning and Izzy helped me into new pajamas yesterday evening."

Jocelyn held her hands up in surrender. "I was just asking."

Clary gave a small smile. "He's seen me worse."

"What do you mean by that?"

Just as Clary was about to answer, a knock came from the door. Jocelyn hurried to it, looking through the peephole for only a moment before twisting the knob.

"Jace!" she said as if she weren't expecting him. Clary rolled her eyes. If she had never met Izzy, then she would definitely label her mother as the most dramatic person she knew. "It's so good to see you again!"

Jace brilliantly smiled. "It's good to see you too, Mrs. Garroway."

"I already told you to call me Jocelyn, Jace," her mother insisted, waving him in. "Please—come in, come in. The heap on the couch over there is the girl you're looking for."

"Lovely, mother," Clary muttered as Jace walked over with a smirk.

"You look a little better," he observed.

"I feel a little better."

"Were you here recently?" Jocelyn asked, confused.

"A couple of days ago, yeah," Jace answered, looking at Clary questioningly. Clary only shrugged. "I made her stay home instead of going out, and I stayed with her."

"Well," her mother replied, sounding surprised but not entirely shocked, "thank you for taking care of her."

Jace smiled. "It wasn't a problem." Then quieter, as if to himself, "But I'd never do it again—oh." His smile dropped as he looked down at Clary. "I already am."

"Shut up," she lightly laughed, going to punch his arm but being too weak to get in anything more than a tap. "It's not like I asked you to be here."

"Are you sure? Because I remember begging—an overwhelming amount of it, actually. Something about needing something pretty to look at while you were hurling your guts out? It was quite pathetic, if I'm being honest."

"I said no such thing!" she exclaimed, slightly amused despite wanting to hit him again—actually hit him, though, not give his arm a friendly fist bump.

"Ah, but you see, you did. Maybe you're sicker than you thought you were," he said with fake concern. "Though, if you truly were going mad, I don't think your request would have been so understandable."

"And what do you mean by that?" Clary couldn't help but ask.

"Well," he said, giving a nonchalant shrug, "I _am_ pretty."

She snorted and turned her face into her mostly flat pillow to hide her laugh.

"I should really be going," Jocelyn said, still at her place by the door. Honestly, Clary had forgotten her mother was still there. "Take care of her, Jace."

"I will," he promised, and Jocelyn gave one last smile before heading out. Jace turned back to her. "I didn't bring any movies this time, and the only soup I could find was stuff that Izzy had made and put in my fridge, and I didn't think you'd want food poisoning on top of the flu."

Clary giggled. "My mom made soup, anyway, so you're relieved of your duties."

Jace had the mind to look relieved, his shoulders dropping and his face relaxing. Clary rolled her eyes as he asked, "So I won't be whipped for my ignorance?"

"Not by me," she remarked in distaste.

Jace smirked. "Surprising decision, considering we both know you want me to take my shirt off."

Clary choked, breaking into a fit of coughs. She turned back into the pillow to avoid coughing in his face, and she heard Jace laughing as he rubbed her back.

"Sorry. Too much?"

When she regained her breath, Clary answered. "Is there ever a time when you aren't too much?"

He chuckled. "No, I suppose not."

"You'd think I'd be used to it."

"Eh, I take some getting used to."

It was Clary's turn to smile now. "Obviously."

He pecked her forehead. "On another note, you look exhausted."

"And you're saying...what, exactly?" she asked with a raised brow.

"Exactly?" he challenged with a smirk.

"Exactly," she said, ignoring the yawn that was crawling up her throat.

"You look like a druggie who was wondering around all night and is now about to drop dead in the back of an alley," he sincerely told her, a serious look on his face.

"How did you figure the back of an alley part?"

He shrugged. "Made for a better picture."

Clary gave a small laugh then yawned, unable to hold it back any longer. When she opened her mouth to respond another yawn came, replacing her words. Jace laughed at her.

"So, was Izzy correct in telling me you've barely moved in the past two days?" he asked, gesturing to her spot on the couch.

"I sat up earlier," Clary said thoughtfully. "And I think I've traveled to the bathroom twice."

He rolled his eyes. "Hold on." His arms slipped under her body and lifted her gently, carefully as if she were precious china. Clary didn't protest—it would be nice to give her side a break.

"You're lighter than you were Saturday," he noted with disapproval. "Have you been eating?"

Clary bit her lip as he settled down on the couch with her in his lap. She didn't mind the intimate position; after all, he did make a nice pillow.

"A little?"

He rolled his eyes and kicked out the recliner. Clary startled at the jolt and put her arms around his neck.

"You're eating when you wake up."

Clary sighed. She was too tired to argue, and even if she could, she knew she wouldn't win. She saved some dignity, though, by not answering.

He leaned the seat back slowly, putting her in an almost flat position.

"Do you want the tv on?" Clary asked him, shifting to a new position.

He grabbed the blanket she had been using before and covered her with it again. "I'm going to take a nap too. I've been picking up some night shifts lately—I'm tired."

Clary had a feeling he was lying. Not about the working night shifts part, but the being tired part. He didn't look tired at all—only like the Jace she'd come to know.

Curiously, she asked, "When was the last time you were sick?"

"...Do hangovers count?"

Clary thought about it, then shook her head. "No. When were you last sick—actually sick?"

Jace grinned sheepishly, like he was afraid to give her the answer. "Honestly? I've never been."

Clary blinked. "You've never been...sick?"

"I guess I have a strong immune system," he flippantly said.

"You're lying," she said, studying him. He had to be lying; all people get sick no matter their immune system's strength. But it didn't look like he was lying. He confirmed this a few moments after.

"I'm not. I swear it," he chuckled. "Ask Izzy if you don't believe me—she used to get really worked up about it when she was sick."

"That sounds like Izzy," Clary half-heartedly said. "But really? You've never been sick? Not even a little cold?"

Jace laughed and brushed the hair back from her face. His eyes were twinkling in amusement. "Not even a little cold." He paused, then said, "Did you know that Izzy used to chase me around the house while she was sick doing everything she could to pass it on to me?"

Clary gave a surprised laugh. "She did?"

He laughed with her. "She did. She would spit in whatever I was drinking, put snotty tissues on my pillow, throw up in my bathroom, and cough in my food and face. She would get incredibly cuddly, too."

Clary laughed into Jace's shoulder, imagining Izzy running through the house and using what little strength she had to try to get her brother sick. "I can't believe her!"

"Oh, she's truly a charmer," he remarked and stroked her blanket-covered back.

She yawned again and rested her head on his shoulder. Without thinking, she said, "It must run in the family."

"Was that a compliment?"

"A compliment toward whom, exactly?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

Clary pursed her lips in a mindful manner. "I was thinking Alec—maybe Max. Why? What were you thinking?" He scowled, making Clary giggle and press closer to him. "Just kidding," she murmured into his neck. She smiled when she felt goosebumps raise on his skin.

"Sleep, Clary," he whispered. She closed her eyes obediently and was rewarded with soft kisses to her eyelids. "Sleep."

* * *

"I'm going to wake them up."

"No, you're not, Jon! They aren't doing anything! And even if they were, it would be none of your business!" a harsh whisper demanded.

"He's holding her!"

"Big deal! He's holding her, so what?"

"So, he's _touching_ -"

"Touching her only on her upper back and lower thigh? Grow up, Jon! Clary is 22, she can make her own decisions! Besides, she's _sick_! Are you really going to wake them up just because they're closer than you'd like?" A smack. "Leave them be!"

Clary finally peeled her eyes open, revealing her brother and sister-in-law quietly arguing in the kitchen. Well, bickering was a better word for it.

"But Lilith-"

"Hush, Jon! If you wake either of them up, so help me God-"

"Guys?" Clary hoarsely whispered, lifting her heavy and drowsy head from its place in the crook of Jace's neck. "What are you doing here?"

"Dammit, Jon!" Lilith swiped at him again, hitting him squarely in the abdomen. He keeled over, bringing a small smile to Clary's face despite her body being in a half-conscious state. However, she was alert enough to notice that her arms were growing numb and she slowly pulled them from around Jace's neck to place under the blanket and onto his chest. The boy in question was somehow still sleeping.

"Mom said you were going to be alone," Lilith explained. "So we thought we'd stop by and make sure you were all right. Clearly,"—She gestured to the man Clary was on top of—"you are."

She'd called Jocelyn 'Mom' for years now; her own mother had passed when she was a baby and her father had never remarried, so when it slipped out one day, she'd burst into tears. They'd spent the entire day comforting and reassuring her that it was okay, that she was a part of the family and that it didn't bother anyone to share their mother with her. When she finally calmed down enough to listen, Lilith believed them and continued her use of the name.

Clary's eyelids dropped again, too tired to comprehend speech. She mumbled something unintelligible—if she was being honest, even she didn't know what her mouth was trying to say.

"We'll be going now, Jonathan."

"What? But she's sick! She needs someone to take care of her!" he protested.

"Which she has right there on that couch," Lilith argued. Jon yelped in pain and Clary could only assume that his wife had either hit him or taken him by the ear and dragged him to the door. She was leaning more toward the latter. "We're leaving, Jonathan."

"If you so much as step one millimeter out of line, Jace Lightwood, I will hurt you like you've never hurt before!" Jon shouted, startling Jace awake and making Clary's eyes snap open.

"Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern-Fairchild!" Lilith snapped and twisted his ear, making Clary's brother wince in pain and repeatedly yelp. Jace frowned in confusion as they left, Lilith shouting apologies and farewells as the door to Clary's apartment shut.

"I forgot to mention that he has the exact same name as you," Clary mumbled, head pounding.

"Ah," Jace acknowledged, still half-asleep. They fell into silence for a while, then Jace said, "I think I said something about you eating when you woke up."

"Technically," she pointed out, "I didn't wake up on my own terms."

"Technically," Jace repeated with a smirk, "you still woke up."

Clary sighed. "I'm not hungry," she whined. "I'm tired."

"You can sleep more once you eat," he decided and slowly pushed the recliner in.

She groaned. "Jace..."

"Yes, dear?"

"I'll kick you out."

He set her to the side. She tipped over and fell, unable to hold her weight up, causing Jace to chuckle. "I'd like to see you try."

She scowled. He walked into the kitchen, opened her fridge, rummaged in her cupboards for a bowl, and put the soup in the microwave. Clary took the time to close her eyes; maybe if she fell back asleep, Jace wouldn't make her eat.

She was proven wrong when Jace came back and sat her up against her will.

"I'm fully capable of taking care of myself," Clary muttered.

"Then eat," Jace said firmly. "You were already light—losing any more weight isn't going to help you get better."

"Why are you so adamant about me getting better?"

"The sooner you're better, the sooner I can kiss you again." Clary raised her brows, giving him a disbelieving look. He, in turn, shrugged—something that was becoming characteristic for him. "What? I like kissing you."

Clary blushed and leaned forward to eat her soup. While her head still hurt, her joints still ached, and her body was still two degrees warmer than it should have been, her stomach no longer twisted and turned like a corkscrew.

"Now can I go to sleep?" she asked when she was done eating. Jace had been watching her the whole time with crossed arms, looking like a mother about to scold her child. Luckily, he hadn't actually scolded her. Though, Clary thought, he probably wouldn't have hesitated to if she hadn't eaten the soup.

Jace took the mostly empty bowl from her and inspected it carefully. Eventually, he looked at her through the strands of blond that had fallen in his eyes and nodded—just once. "You may."

Clary sighed in relief. "That's the best news I've heard all day."

A smile twitched at the corner of his lips as he went to put the dish in the dishwasher. "I'll move you to your bed first."

"Now, that," she said, "is something I can get behind."

Jace laughed out loud this time, dropping the Mr. Hardass act. Clary smiled, liking that she could make him laugh without having to work for it.

"Come on, dear," he said when he was back in front of her. "It's time for our afternoon naps."

"Didn't we already take those?" Clary pointed out as he scooped her up.

Jace hummed thoughtfully. "Does it count if we were woken up by no means of us?"

"Considering we were out for more than an hour, I think it counts."

Jace laid her on the bed and helped her under the covers before slipping in beside her. "Fine then. Be technical about it. We'll just label this as our evening nap."

Clary rested a hand on his T-shirt covered chest—he'd taken off his sweatshirt when he'd first come in. "We would make great old people."

"I've already got the pet name figured out, then, if we're going for the whole 'grandparents' vibe."

"Well, _I_ was aiming for the 'great-grandparents' vibe, but it's fine—we can undershoot our full potential," she teased.

"There's barely a difference. It just means I refer to you as 'deary' instead of 'dear' and we add another nap to our schedule," he said while moving his fingers through her hair. "But I refuse to do the whole 'walker and wheelchair' thing. Also," he added, "we should speak about catheters." Clary broke into surprised laughter, turning to his shirt to muffle the sound. "Whatever they say, whatever I do, do _not_ give them permission to give me a catheter."

"Okay, okay," Clary agreed when she got her composure back. "I won't let them give you a catheter. But I will challenge you on the wheelchair and walker thing."

"Give me one good reason as to why I shouldn't outright reject both objects."

"I'll give you one for each," she said with a smirk.

Jace, seeing her smirk, became intrigued. "I'm listening."

"With the walker you would have an excuse to stomp on people's feet and make it hurt. Especially those in your way."

Jace rolled his eyes. "Violent but useful, I suppose. However, if the wheelchair's reason is having an excuse to run down people in your way, you're not going to change my mind."

Clary smirked wider. "Don't worry, I have something way better than that."

"Which is?"

"Wheelchair races." Jace didn't respond back as quick as usual, so Clary took the opportunity to add, "Think about it. Our arms would stay in shape, we would experience some thrill again, one of us would get extreme bragging rights, we would be able to outrun our catheter-giving nurses, etcetera, etcetera. Not to mention the havoc we could wreak upon the care home."

Jace was shaking in silent laughter by the time she was halfway finished, but it didn't stay that way when she finished her last sentence. He rested his forehead on top of her hair and laughed, holding her tightly. "You had me at races."

"Well, you could've told me that! Then I wouldn't have had to go into so much detail," Clary complained.

"No, no," Jace said, shaking his head from atop hers. "I rather liked the details."

Clary smiled and closed her eyes. A yawn slipped out before she could help it, and she knew she was nearing the end of her consciousness.

"Jace, I'm going to fall asleep," she blatantly told him.

He pulled his head momentarily to brush the hair from her face, and Clary looked up at him through her eyelashes. He exhaled.

"The thing is, when Izzy would spit into my drinks, sometimes I wouldn't know and would end up drinking it anyway."

Clary frowned, confused by his change of topic. What did that have to do with anything? "What-"

Before she could ask, Jace answered. "I basically swapped spit with her, and I never got sick despite the other things she undoubtedly did."

This time, Clary was able to get in a question. Well, part of one. She wasn't entirely sure what she should have been asking. "...What?"

He leaned down and murmured a quiet, "I'm saying screw it to waiting," before gently pressing his lips to hers.

When he pulled back a few seconds later, Clary didn't bother to open her eyes. Instead, she said, "What if you get sick?"

"Worth it."

She grinned and buried her head in his shoulder, breathing in the comforting smell of sunshine. Now that he wasn't wearing cologne, the scent was much more overt.

"Goodnight, Jace."

"Goodnight, deary."

 **If this felt a little short...well, it's because it is. But in my defense, I'm writing most of this in my hotel room in Chicago (10 HOURS AWAY FROM HOME) after spending all day downtown and touring colleges. So, I'm tired. But I got to see the Navy Pier (any Divergent fans?), so that was pretty neat!**

 **I doubt you're reading this anymore, but just in case you are, thank you for all the love and support! :)**


	7. PSA

So...it's been an awful long time since I last updated (or even worked on) this story. I loved it to bits and pieces, but unfortunately life got busy and in the way and while I still love and appreciate all of you who continue to review and follow and favorite, I'll be honest with you: I don't know if I will continue on. I have the outline of how I wanted this plot to go, and I have various snippets written all throughout it, but I'm currently in university working three jobs, and if I have time to write anything it's more recent projects than this one. If you're interested in those projects, you can find me on Tumblr and AO3 as tommyparkerr. I write mainly for Marvel (Peter Parker) but occasionally Tom Holland as well. I still love TMI, and the only reason I'm coming back to write you all about this is because my younger brother is just starting to read the TMI series and it got me thinking about all of the different stories and plots I had planned for the TMI characters (yes, I had two or three other stories planned for Clary and Jace). At this point I'm considering coming back to the fandom, at least to finish this story, but I'm honestly not sure how long that will take (or if I will even decide to). You have all been so sweet and kind and I'm so sorry to do this to you, especially since I had previously promised I'd finish it since you all wanted more than two parts lol, but for right now this story is going to be put on hiatus.

Thank you for understanding, and if you have any questions or concerns feel free to PM me on here or on Tumblr or AO3! :)


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